She's A Dying Breed
by Jeffrey-Damn-Her
Summary: Emily Laine has been sick for a number of years, and yet no doctor seems to be able to figure out exactly why. She is admitted to Princeton Plainsboro Hospital, and all her hopes rest on the infamous Dr. House. HouseOC pairing.
1. A Bit of Blood

**A House M.D. fanfiction.**

**House OC pairing. Because I love OC's. And House.**

**A little, strange and taboo. Doctor patient thing. Enjoy.**

--

It started with a tickle in the back of my throat. It always started with a tickle in the back of my throat, as if my body was giving me a warning, telling me I had only a couple of minutes to get to a bathroom or sink, just to run away from whoever was near me. I had my elbows leant against the desk in front of me, staring at the board as the teacher talked to the class. I glanced down at the page in front of me. It was biology. I was good at biology.

"Human Immuno-deficiency Virus." I mouthed as I scanned the page on Virus's. I coughed quietly, looking back up at the teacher, and slowly raised my hand. He frowned slightly.  
"What is it?" He asked, annoyed that I had interrupted his lecture.

"May I go to the bathroom?" I asked quietly and politely. He glanced over at the clock, and then shook his head.

"This class is over in five minutes. You can wait." He said. I could already feel my throat tightening and I winced. I didn't have five minutes.

"Sir, I need to go _now._" I whimpered. Everyone was looking me, a smirk playing on their faces. I crossed my legs, emphasising the point. I hated how it would sometimes creep up on me at the most inappropriate times. I knew that my teacher wasn't going to budge on the topic though.

"Five minutes won't kill you." He said through gritted teeth, "Now sit quietly, Emily, you're disrupting the class." I put my hand down in defeat, hoping that maybe I could manage a mad dash to the bathroom the moment the bell sounded. I glanced at the clock, four minutes.

"Okay, so, the HIV virus enters the white blood cells," The teacher continued. I pursed my lips together, feeling my throat constrict, trying to breathe normally. "This makes the white blood cells less capable of defending the body against other invading micro-organisms."

I began to fidget, running a hand through my mid length red hair, pulling my school skirt down slightly, tapping my fingers against the table.

"This is why people with AIDS often succumb to other infections." I was suddenly very aware that I needed to breathe. I attempted to inhale but I couldn't. I glanced at the clock, 3 minutes left. I wouldn't make it that long.

"Now, there are some drugs available that can slow down the rate at which HIV multiplies." I dug my fingernails into the wood of the desk. I desperately needed to cough, to clear my airways. I couldn't, not here, not in front of my class.

"It does this by blocking some of the enzymes which the virus uses to help it multiply." I could feel my body desperately needing oxygen; I glanced again at the clock, only a minute and a half. "Emily, are you okay?" I turned round slowly to face my teacher who had a concerned look on his face. I could feel my face turning purple. I opened my mouth, in an attempt to breath, but I couldn't, my airway was blocked. My hands were balled into fists, my knuckles going white. "Emily?!"

I was going to pass out. I was already dizzy, my brain wasn't getting enough oxygen. I bent over, opened my mouth and gasped, clearing my throat, feeling the warm liquid bubble past my lips. I coughed a bit more, tasting copper in my mouth, gasping and feeling air fill my lungs. People screamed, and I slipped off my seat, crouching on the floor, spluttering a bit more, but relieved that the sensation of being asphyxiated was over.

My whole class had gone mad, people had jumped out of their seats, crying out, someone ran straight out of the classroom, no one was used to seeing that amount of blood. It had gotten everywhere, it was on my school shirt, on my hands, on the wood of the desk, and some of it was in my hair. I could hear someone yell '_Is she dying_?!'

Someone wrapped an arm round my shoulder; I looked up to see my teacher, his aged face looking panicked.

"It'll be fine, just breathe, someone's phoning an ambulance." He said quickly, running his words into one another. I gave another small cough and nodded, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Look, I'm fine." I sighed, wiping my chin, the bright red blood staining my hand.

"They'll be here soon, just hang on." He said again. I furrowed my brow at him, annoyed that he just hadn't let me go to the bathroom.

"I'm fine!" I snapped, "It's just a bit of blood."

--

House limped quickly through the reception area of Princeton-Plainsboro teaching hospital, leaning heavily on his cane, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. He looked as if he was in a rush, as if he had somewhere important to be. That wasn't true, he just didn't want to meet Cuddy on the way in to work and get roped in to doing clinic duty and diagnose colds for the rest of the afternoon.

He made it to the elevator without incident, and was pleased to find that he was in there alone. However, when the lift doors opened again he was greeted by three all too familiar faces. He frowned and stepped out, pushing past them.

"I get a welcome party now?" He muttered sarcastically.

"We have a new case." He heard Cameron say, he stopped and turned round.

"That couldn't wait the two minutes it takes for me to get from the elevator to my office?" He asked. He noticed the file in her hand and snatched it away from her, scanning over it quickly. He sighed, slightly disappointed.

"It's pneumonia." He muttered, handing it back to her. Cameron shot him a smirk; as if she knew something he didn't it.

"Seriously?" She asked, she glanced to her side, peering into the room which they were standing beside. In it was the patient, sitting up in bed, a book open on her lap. She wasn't connected up to any sort of apparatus except for a drip, and she had a smile plastered on her face as she flipped through the pages, "You honestly think _she_ has pneumonia?"

"Fine then, Bronchitis." House murmured, taking one last look at the young girl. She didn't look like she was sick enough to be coughing up blood.

"Her only symptom is Haemoptysis!" Cameron protested. House continued to walk.

"Get a chest X-ray and do her blood work." House called back, Cameron quickly ran after him, standing in front of him, holding out the file.

"Just... look at her history." She sighed. He frowned and snatched the file off her, a slight smile spreading across her lips, "Thanks."

"Shoo!" He cried, pushing her out of his way with his cane and continuing to walk on until he reached his office. He opened his door and limped over to his desk, putting the file down on the surface and staring at it for a while. He then sat down and opened it, flicking through the pages, his forehead becoming more creased with every one he looked at. He read, and then re-read, and eventually a smile split across his face. He had hit the jackpot.


	2. Blood Tests and Toothbrushes

**Just a warning. There may be severely incorrect medical information in this series.**

**I tried my best, but I'm not a doctor. Somethings are for added dramatic effect, and others are because I'm plain stupid.**

--

The door to my room opened, and I glanced away from my book. I smiled as I saw a doctor walk in, and I pushed my book to the side. He was young with blonde hair, I didn't recognise him. He walked over to my bed, sitting down and taking out a syringe.

"I'm Dr. Chase." He started; I let out a sigh.

"Blood tests?" I asked. He nodded and I stretched out my arm, offering it to him. He smiled and took hold of my wrist so that my arm was straight.

"Scared of needles?" He asked as he picked up the syringe. He had an Australian accent. I laughed quietly.

"No. Not really." I told him. He glanced at my arm, trying to spot a usable vein, before slapping the underside of it lightly.

"It helps raise the veins." He told me. I nodded like I had never heard it or seen it done before. He pressed the needle of the syringe against my skin, "Means I'm less likely to miss. You're going to feel a pinch."

I felt the needle pierce my skin and slide easily into my arm, stinging slightly, causing me to wince. I watched as the blood was drawn up into the vial, the red liquid staining the glass.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, curious.

"Bronchitis." He muttered, filling up the vial completely, "We need to take a chest X-ray as well."

"It's a waste of time." I said with a sigh as he quickly replaced the vial, drawing even more blood up out of my arm. "I don't have it."

"What makes you so sure?" He asked with a smile, meeting my eyes for a second before allowing them to dart back to the needle in my arm.

"I've been tested for it before." I told him in a matter of fact tone, I cocked my head to one side, "It's not pneumonia either. Or tuberculosis. Mind you the X-ray will tell you that anyway." He filled yet another vial, and replaced it quickly.

"Well, we still have to test you for it, to see for ourselves." He said. I nodded, feeling slightly frustrated that no one was paying attention to what I had to say, although I knew he was just doing his job. He must have noticed my change in mood, because he glanced back up at my face and smiled softly, "Don't worry; we're going to figure out what's wrong with you."

--

House stood outside the room, staring in through the gaps in the blinds. Watching as Chase sat down next to the young girl, and as she obediently stretched out her arm, like she had done it a million times before, like she was a pro.

"What are you doing?" Came the familiar voice of Cuddy. He turned round to see her standing in the corridor, her arms folded across her chest, and a suspicious look on her face.

"I'm just... checking up on a patient." He told her. She frowned and walked over to him.

"You don't check on patients." She said, cynicism laced through every word, "You harass them." House dramatically hit himself on his forehead with his hand.

"Oh yeah, I forgot!" He cried, "I knew there was something I was supposed to be doing!" And with that he limped over to the door, banged on it loudly with his cane before opening it and striding in. He had forgotten that Chase had been drawing blood, and in that instance had a large needle stuck in his patients arm, however, he quickly remembered when he entered the room.

Chase was on his feet, blood on his fingertips. The large bang from House's cane had made him jump, which had pushed the needle further into the patients arm. He'd pulled it out and at that moment was attempting to stop the flow of blood which was streaming down her arm onto the bed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He cried as he picked up some gauze, applying pressure to the wound. The girls face was distorted slightly in pain, but she bit down on her lower lip and kept quiet.

"Please excuse him." House sighed, walking slowly over to the end of her bed, "He's an idiot." The girl's eyes tore away from her bleeding arm and glanced up at House. A bright smile spread across her face for a second before Chase pressed down too hard on her arm.

"Ow!" She cried. He groaned, allowing her to press down on the gauze herself.

"Sorry!" He repeated. He sighed and looked up at House, "What is it?" He asked dejectedly.

"You have lung cancer!" House cried triumphantly, causing the girl's head to snap up again, her eyes wide, Shocked and slightly confused, but not frightened.

"Seriously?" She asked, a suspicious, but oddly hopeful tone to her voice, "But you haven't done any tests yet."

"I'm psychic." House told her. He glanced again over at Chase again, who was glaring up at him, "Oh come on, don't pout!"

"I'm not." He growled. He wiped his hands on some sheets next to the girl's bed. He gathered up the vials and stood up, glancing up at House, "I'll bring these to the lab then."

"You do that." House said as Chase pushed by him and out the door, a scowl plastered on his face. House slowly turned round to face the patient, "Hello there."

"Hello." She said with a slight smile, flexing her arm and pulling it up so that it was bent against her chest. House was slightly surprised at her reaction; usually the first thing a person would ask was '_Who are you?_' or '_what are you doing in my room?_'

"Where are your parents?" He asked, looking round the room, as if expecting them to jump out at him. The girl shrugged.

"I think my moms on her way." She muttered, "She shouldn't be here for a while." House nodded and walked over to her bedside, taking the seat that Chase had been sitting in.

"Good. That will make this significantly less awkward." He sighed, he glanced over at her, "So, firstly, the million dollar question, do you smoke?" The girl slowly shook her head.

"Nope, never have." She told him. He laughed slightly.

"But it's what the cool people do!" He cried. A smile split across the girls face, "Come on, you can be honest with me. I won't go crying to mommy!" The girl shook her head again.

"Sorry. I don't." She repeated. He frowned.

"Does your mommy smoke?" He asked. She shook her head again, "You'll know we'll find out anyway, we've got your blood."

"I swear. I've never touched a cigarette in my life." The girl promised. House bounced his cane impatiently off the floor, thinking for a second.

"What about toothbrushes?" He asked.

"Huh?"

"They're great things, don't you think?" He said, "I mean, they clean your teeth, they can clean your toilet, you know, get into the hard to reach places. They're also good for sticking down your throat." The girl smirked at him.

"I don't stick toothbrushes down my throat." She laughed.

"What? Do you use your fingers?" He asked, a mock look of disgust on his face "Well, I hope you wash your hands."

"I'm not bulimic." The girl said simply, looking him straight in the eye. House shrugged.

"You completely sure?" He asked. The girl smiled again.

"Yes. I think I'd know if I was." She told him with conviction, "Anyway, if this was caused by bulimia the blood I cough up with be a darker colour. It's a light a light red colour. It isn't coming from my oesophagus. So unless I enjoy sticking toothbrushes down my trachea, it's not that." House sat staring at her for a second, shocked a bit at how up front she was being, and how much she knew. She'd obviously been paying attention the past couple of years. He pouted slightly and looked at the ground.

"Well, I don't know what kids these days are into, toothbrushes might be the new crazy fad." He sighed, pushing himself up with his cane, so he was standing upright. He took one last look at her, "But I'm guessing that you're not the 'fat girl' in your class."

"No, I'm not, and I never was." The girl carefully removed her hand from the gauze, making sure it was firmly in place between her lower arm and her upper arm and then picked up the book that she had been reading, setting it on her lap, "I'm not just a typical insecure teenager."

"I'll believe that when I see it!" House laughed, he made his way over to the door. He paused for a second, and looked back at her. "About your arm..." He started, "You're not going to sue me or anything." The girl raised and eyebrow and a smile formed on her lips, a giggle erupting for her throat. She shook her head.

"No, I'm not going to sue you." She laughed. House nodded.

"Good. Because technically it was Chase who stuck that thing in your arm." He said, he stepped out the door, but before it closed he heard the patient again.

"Bye Dr. House." She called.


	3. I Don't Lie to Doctors

Sara Laine walked briskly through the front doors of the hospital, her messy dark hair pulled up in a bun, her tight fitted jeans and t-shirts with stains on them, dark sunglasses on her head to cover the dark patches round her eyes, and bright red lipstick on her lips to make it look like she made an effort. She walked up to the receptionist and smiled slightly.

"I'm looking for my daughter." She said breathlessly. The woman behind the desk slowly nodded and raised an eyebrow.

"What's her name?" She asked.

"Emily." Sara sighed, "Emily Laine." The woman typed in something into the computer, pursed her lips together, eventually nodding.

"She was admitted a few hours ago," She muttered, glancing up at the woman in front of her, "she's on the second floor. You can go on up."

"Thank you." Sara cried, adjusting the tacky hand bag on her shoulder and walking over to the elevator, her heels clicking along the floor. She pressed the button, impatiently waiting until the doors were open. She stepped in without looking around, not noticing someone else in the lift and turned to press the button for the second floor; before she had the chance to the other occupant of the lift leant forward and pressed it for her, with the end of a cane. She glanced up at the man standing beside her, looking only a little less scruffy than her.

"In a rush?" He asked. She nodded slowly.

"My daughter..." She started, but the man interrupted her.

"She's been coughing up blood." He muttered, he noticed the shocked look on her face and smirked, "I have a sixth sense, I know things."

"who are you-" She murmured, looking away from him.

"I also know she's been here for five hours." He grumbled.

"I was at work, I came as soon as I heard, but it's a long way away." Sara started, attempting quickly to make excuses.

"There wasn't really any point though was there?" He asked, she furrowed her brow and looked him, completely shocked, "Don't get me wrong, it's important for a daughter to have her mother there in her time of need. Otherwise she might do something stupid, like stick toothbrushes down her throat."

"Exactly." She spat, watching as the elevator shuddered to a stop, "Wait, toothbrushes?!".

"What I mean is, you don't need to sign her consent forms." The man said as the doors slid open. The woman's mouth was hanging open, not sure how to reply. The man sighed, "But she's still a minor."

"I'm quite aware of that." Sara snapped, stepping out of the lift, confused and alarmed at the stranger who seemed to know a bit too much about her daughter. He stuck his cane out, preventing the lift doors from closing. He frowned.

"How long ago was she emancipated?!" He called after her. Sara ducked her head down, mortified, and practically ran down the hall away from him, looking for her daughter.

--

"Emily!" I tore my eyes away from the TV in the corner of the room as I noticed my mother opening the door, a large relieved smile on her face. I returned it momentarily as she ran over to my bed, discarding her handbag, bending over me, cupping my face in her hands and kissing me gently on my forehead.

"Hello mom." I giggled. My mom smoothed my hair back off my face, smiling as she looked down at me.

"I was so scared." She whispered, her eyes shining, "I didn't know what to think, I thought you were dying."

"Mom, I'm going to be fine." I reassured her. She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip, and letting go of me, sitting back down on a seat near my bed, bending over, holding her head in her hands. I noticed her back rising and falling, shuddering. I frowned, and pulled the blanket off myself, perching on the edge of my bed.

"Mom?" I whispered.

"It's okay." She choked out. She sat up straight again, her eyes red and damp, a watery smile on her lips, "I'm fine."

"Mother, I swear, I'm going to be okay." I promised her. She nodded, pursing her lips together. I pushed myself off the bed.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lose you." She murmured, "I can't take this."

"Everything is going to be alright." I told her. I crouched down, so that my head was level with her knees, so that she'd look at me. She managed another fake smile, "I'm not going anywhere." She nodded, trying to believe me. I slipped my hand into one of hers, giving it a supportive squeeze.

"This isn't fair on you." She sighed, she let out a slight giggle, "I mean, you're the sick one, and look at me! I'm getting all upset." I laughed slightly.

"I don't mind!" I reassured her.

"I shouldn't put this all on you." She told me. She wrapped her other hand round mine, stroking the skin on it, "You're all I have." I flashed her a toothy grin, trying to cheer her up.

"Like I said, you're not getting rid of me any time soon." My mum nodded slowly, laughing again, trying to keep it all together. I looked up, through the blinds, and noticed Dr. House standing outside, staring in through the glass, watching me comfort my mother. I bit down on my lip and looked away again, ignoring him.

That's when I felt it again, the tickling sensation in the back of my throat. I slowly pried my hands out of my mothers grip, she looked up at me, confused and worried. I stood up straight, gingerly touching my neck.

"Emily, what is it?" My mum asked, fear in her voice. I turned round, looking around the room. There wasn't a toilet near by. I walked over to the bedside table, dragging the drip along beside me, and opened the cupboard, finding a stack of cardboard bowls, shaped like kidneys, the ones which they used when patients threw up, I shrugged, and I suppose they were just as good. I picked one up, feeling my throat begin to constrict. I glanced at my mother. She looked slightly panicked.

"Mum, it's okay." I told her, my voice hoarse, my mouth dry. Her face was gaunt.

"Emily, are you feeling sick?" She asked timidly, stepping towards me. I shook my head, gripping onto the cardboard in my hand, my throat was closing over.

"No, it's not that-" I choked out, I couldn't breathe anymore, and tried to turn round, so my mum wouldn't see me, but she ran over to me, grabbing me by my shoulders.

"Emily?!" She cried. I tried to duck away from her, so I could clear my throat, but she was holding tightly onto my arms.

"Mom, let go-" I hissed, trying to push her off me and bend over, struggling for air. She was crying again, convinced I was dying.

"I need a doctor!" She screamed, "Emily, just breathe." I fell back onto the bed slightly; sitting perched on the edge of the mattress, the cardboard bowl falling to the floor. I tried to crouch down to pick it up, but my mother was intent on making me stay upright.

"Help, someone help!" She shouted, hysterical. I heard the door open as my face turned red and I clutched desperately at my mother, trying to make her let go of me.

"Let go of her!" Came a familiar rough voice.

"What are you doing here?" I heard my mother ask, outraged, as I keeled over, trying to get air, "I need a doctor!"

"I _am_ a doctor!" I heard the mans voice saying, suddenly she let go of me and I fell to the ground, leaning forward and picking up the cardboard bowl. I then felt a pair of hands haul me upright again, an arm snaking up my back so that I was hunched over, the bowl in my hand, and patted me gently on the back. I coughed loudly, spilling some blood into the bowl.

"Oh my god!" I heard my mother scream. Whoever was holding me up groaned loudly.

"Get her out of here!" The man cried. Quickly after I heard the door slam shut, and I continued to splutter into the bowl, the blood dripping onto the salmon coloured cardboard.

"All better?" The man asked after a few seconds, once I'd finished coughing. I stood up straight and glanced up at him. It was House. I smiled.

"Thanks." I muttered hoarsely. He smirked, quickly retracting his arm back down to his side.

"I couldn't just stand there and watch your own mother kill you." He said. I let out a choked laugh.

"She didn't know I was sick." I whispered, "I never told her." He nodded, looking as if he was deep in thought; he then took the bowl out of my hands, looking down his nose at it.

"Looks like you were telling the truth." He muttered, "You're not bulimic." I stood up completely straight, and discretely wiped a speck of blood away from the corner of my mouth with my little finger.

"I don't lie to doctors." I whispered. House limped over to a bin near the door, opened it and threw the bowl of it in. He sighed, and then opened the door.

"You're lying to your mother." He muttered, stepping outside and leaving.


	4. Cancer

**This is one is short, they're all kind of short, actually, but it's to do with the order/number of the chapters.**

--

I wasn't the biggest fan of wheelchairs. I always found them degrading, making me feel smaller than everyone else, making out I couldn't walk. I frowned up at Dr. Foreman from where I sat on the bed, looking at the clean, shiny wheelchair he had carted in. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"I can walk, you know." I muttered.

"I know, but we have to use it." He apologised, gripping the handles on it, "its protocol." I shrugged, obediently standing up and sitting down in the cold plastic seat. Fixing the hospital gown I had on nervously.

"Why can't I just wear my own clothes?" I asked as Dr. Foreman pushed me out of my room, the wheels squeaking slightly. They needed to be oiled. He laughed quietly.

"The sooner we get you to X-ray, the sooner we find out what's wrong with you and the sooner you can get home and wear whatever you want." He told me with a smile. I looked up at him over my shoulder and gave him a wry smirk.

"Okay, if you say so." I sighed. I ran a hand through my hair as he led me round corridors, towards X-ray.

"We're going to figure out what's wrong with you." He reassured me.

"So everyone keeps saying." I muttered under my breath, we reached the elevator and wheeled me inside. He hit the button and the door closed.

"You're in good hands." He said, "Dr. House may be... abrasive, but he's good at what he does."

"He's not _that_ bad." I retorted, "He's funny."

"You've talked to him?" Dr. Foreman asked, sounding slightly shocked. I nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, he _is_ my doctor." I told him. The elevator came to a stop; I noticed that it wasn't on my floor. The doors slowly opened revealing that we were in fact in Oncology. Behind the doors stood Dr. House. He noticed us and flashed us a half smile, stepping in reluctantly.

"If it isn't my favourite patient." He sighed, "And Foreman."

"Where were you?" Foreman asked, I glanced over my shoulder at House as he took his place behind me.

"Just making sure Wilson wasn't harassing anymore nurses." He muttered, "Why, what's your excuse? Just like hanging out with patients in elevators?"

"I'm taking Emily to X-ray." Foreman snapped, rolling his eyes. I smirked slightly, House noticed.

"Why are you so cheery?" He asked. I turned my neck round slightly to look at him, and shrugged.

"I just am." I said as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Foreman began to push me out into the corridor.

"Well, you shouldn't be." House cried, "You might have cancer." Foreman continued to walk away from him.

"Sorry about that." He sighed, I just giggled, turning round and looking over my shoulder, seeing House standing in the lift as the doors closed.

"**CANCER!**" He screamed as they eventually slid shut. I turned back round, moving around in the seat, trying to get comfortable.

"Is he always that charming?" I asked.

"Afraid so."

--

Sara sat with a paper cup of steaming coffee in her hands, she was hunched over in the waiting area near her daughter's room, and her hands were shaking, making the coffee ripple. She had never been so scared in her entire life, her daughter was dying, and there was nothing she could do.

She raised the mug to her lips and took a sip. The coffee was fresh and it burned her tongue, but she just ignored it and continued to drink.

"You know, drinking too much coffee can lead to peptic ulcers." Sara raised her head and found herself looking up at the doctor from the lift, casually swinging his cane. She frowned at him, "How many cups have you had?"

"How's my daughter?" She asked, ignoring his question. He shrugged and took the seat beside her, hunching over just like her, mimicking her actions.

"You know Tea would be better for you." He told her, glancing down again at the cup in her hand. She glared at him and took a defiant sip of her coffee, "She's away up to X-ray." He said after a long pause.

"What do you think it is?" She asked, not particularly wanting to strike up a conversation with this man, but wanting to know what was going on with her daughter.

"Most likely diagnosis at the moment is cancer." He muttered.

"_Cancer_!?" Sara cried; her face dropping. The doctor swung round quickly to see tears welling up in her eyes, a completely distraught look on her face. He scowled.

"It's not like _you_ have cancer!" He laughed, Sara's mouth dropped open in shock and disgust.

"Excuse, my daughter could have cancer, I think I have the right to be ups-" She quickly retorted but the doctor interrupted her.

"Why was she emancipated?" He asked casually, as if her outburst had gone unnoticed.

"None of your business." Sara spat, feeling completely outraged at this man.

"Actually, it is my business." He told her in a matter of fact tone, "She's my patient."

"So?" Sara leant back in her chair, "It has nothing to do with her medical history." The man ignored her, beginning to bounce his cane against the floor.

"Did she want to get married?" He asked her casually. Sara pursed her lips together and shook her head, "She didn't want to join the army, did she?"

"No." Sara laughed. "Why don't you go ask her? She seems to like you!"

"I know, teenage girls just find me so irrestible!" He said, he suddenly stopped bouncing his cane and glanced over at Sara, looking her up and down, lost in thought. Sara suddenly felt very self conscious and opened her mouth to say something.

"We've got her X-rays." Came the voice of a young woman, Sara looked up to see one of her daughters doctors standing there, Dr. Cameron, looking at the man beside her, with a file in her hand, "You're going to want to take a look at them."


	5. Hospital Gowns

**Apologise for slight OOC-ness. Haven't updated recently 'cause I was doing a work placement, so haven't been home much.**

--

My eyes slowly pried themselves open and I was greeted by darkness. I was curled up on my hospital bed, my blankets pulled around me. When I came back from the X-ray it was late and I had fallen asleep nearly straight away. I glanced over to the table near my bed and looked at the clock sitting there. It was 3 am. I yawned slightly and rolled over so I was lying on my back.

I loved hospitals. I never understood why, there was something about the medicinal smell, the order, all the doctors and nurses rushing round trying to help people. Most of my friends hated it, it was where sick people were, it was where people died. I figured people die all over the place, and if you're sick the best place to be is a hospital.

I was snapped out of my train of thought by someone clearing their throat. I rolled my head over on the pillow and found myself looking at Dr.House, who was sitting on a chair next to my bed, his feet on my blanket, his cane swinging from on hand. I flashed him a small smile.

"Hey you..." I sighed, my sleepyness evident in my voice, "Why are you here so late?"

"You're a really heavy sleeper." He muttered, not paying attention to me, focusing on his cane. I nodded.

"Yeah, I love to sleep." I murmured. He stopped swinging his cane and his eyes slowly met mine, a frown on his face. I felt my heart sink, it wasn't good news.

"You..." I started and took a deep breath, trying not to sound dissapointed. I should have been used to it by now, "You don't know."

"Your lungs are perfectly healthy." He said, his voice filled with defeat, "There's nothing wrong with them, I doubt you've even been near a cigarette in your entire life."

"So, it's not cancer?" I whispered. He shook his head.

"Or pneumonia, or bronchitis or tuberculosis or aspergilloma." He hung his head, "We're going to do a CT first thing tomorrow morning." I nodded, and pushed myself up so I was sitting upright, propped up against the pillows.

"It's not Bronchiectasis." I said bluntly. He raised his eyebrows.

"How'd you know-" He started, I laughed slightly.

"It's diagnosed by CT, right?" I asked, he nodded, "I've had CT's before. It'll come back normal."

"We still have to test you. Something might have changed in the past few years." He pointed out. I nodded.

"I hope so." I sighed. We sat in silence for a few minutes, House was obviously thinking, his hands covering his mouth, his eyes directed to the floor.

"Has your mom ever..." He started, he sat back in his seat, "Has your mom ever abused you?" I furrowed my brow, wondering where this was coming from.

"No." I said.

"I saw the tracks on her arms." He told me, his voice dead serious. I laughed and shook my head, pulling my blankets up around me.

"Is this about me being emancipated?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No, I just thought it would be an interesting topic of conversation." He muttered. I giggled slightly.

"I'll tell you why I'm emancipated." I said.

"Goody!"

"_But_!" I interjected. He frowned.

"There's always a but." He groaned.

"But if I do, then I don't have to wear these stupid hospital gowns anymore." House raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with them? They're light, stylish and disposable." I smirked at him.

"Yeah, but everyone can see my panties when I get up!" It was House's turn to smirk.

"I'm not complaining." I smiled to myself and shook my head.

"Promise." I hissed. He cocked his head to one side, staring into space.

"I don't know, I like your panties." He muttered. I picked up one of my pillows and threw it at him. It hit him in the face, "Ow! Fine, fine. No more hospital gowns."

"Okay..." I murmured, glaring at him. He raised his hands up.

"I promise." He swore. I bit down on my bottom lip, "So, did mommy beat you? When she was off her head on drugs did she take it out on you? Do you cry yourself to sleep at night?"

"My mom's a heroin addict." I said plainly, "Heroin relaxes you. It doesn't make you beat your children."

"Is that a no?" I nodded slowly, "Damn it, it was just getting interesting."

"Anyway, if I tried to get emancipated because of abuse I'd just end up getting put into foster care." I pointed out. He shrugged.

"So...?" He said, expecting me to continue.

"So, Parental consent is a lot easier." I explained.

"Are you telling me 'psycho mom' signed you away?" I laughed and shook my head.

"No. Not psycho mom." I sighed, "Psycho dad."

"Wait, what?" He spluttered, he leaned closer to me, "Psycho dad? I thought you didn't have a dad, why's he not here?" I smirked at him and shook my head.

"Nope. You got what you wanted!" I told him, "Unless you have something else to offer me, I'm not going to say anything else!" House shuffled closer to my bed and smiled up at me.

"I can get you any drug you want." I burst out laughing.

"Drugs?"

"Yeah, do you like Vicodin?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small clear yellow tub, he rattled it in front of me, "It's like candy for grown ups!" I shook my head, still laughing.

"No thanks." I sighed. He shrugged and unscrewed the top, pouring a pill into his hand, leaning his head back and downing it.

"More for me!" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and pursed my lips together, thinking, staring at my hands which were lying on my lap. I looked up and met House's eyes.

"How long were you here?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Like I said, you're a heavy sleeper." He muttered.

"It's 3am, why aren't you at home?" I asked.

"Why's daddy not here?"

"Fair enough." I sighed. House then rolled up his sleeve, looking at his watch. He raised his eyebrows and pushed himself up off the chair, pocketing the tub of pills. He began to limp over to the door, but stopped as he was opening it.

"See you in around..." He thought for a second, "5 hours or so."

"Looking forward to it."

--

House heard a knock on the door, but didn't even look up. He sat on his chair, his feet propped up on his desk, his head slung back, eyes closed, mouth open, trying to sleep. He hadn't slept much of last night, and was now regretting it. He'd sat beside her bed for hours until she woke up, and before that had been pouring over her file, trying to figure out if they'd missed anything on the X-ray. He hadn't gone home, he figured it would be better just to sleep in the hospital. But he hadn't slept, until now.

The door was knocked again, and he groaned loudly, but didn't shift, and slung a hand over his eyes, "Go away!" He called to whoever it was.

"Sorry, I'll come back whenever you're awake." Came an oddly familiar voice. He spread his fingers and peeked through them, finding Emily standing in his doorway. He sprang upwards, trying to wake himself up. He heard her laugh, "You know, maybe you should spend less time watching your patients sleep and more time doing it yourself, it's more healthy and less creepy."

"I wasn't watching you sleep!" He snapped, removing a tub of pills from his pocket and downing one, "I was just making sure you weren't having seizures."

"Okay, I believe you." She said with a smile. That's when he noticed that she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He picked up his cane and walked over to her, looking her up and down.

"Ditched the hospital gown?" He asked. She nodded, stepping into his office , dragging her drip in after her, taking a step back and showing off her clothes.

"These are more comfortable." She explained. He shrugged.

"I prefered the gown, left less to the imagination." He muttured, "How'd the CT go?" Emily shrugged just as Cameron and Chase walked into the room. They both glanced over at Emily, confused looks on their face.

"Why aren't you in your room?" Chase asked. Emily shrugged.

"Thought I'd go for a walk." She said plainly. Chase shot a curious look at House, who gave a large shrug and began to walk back over to his desk.

"That's why I think all patients should bound and gagged." House told them all, he sat down again on his seat, "So, you got her results?"

Chase had a folder in his hand, but he looked from House to Emily and back again, his mouth opened like he wanted to say something but couldn't manage it. Cameron rolled her eyes and snatched the file from his hand, walked over to House and handed it to him.

"Nothing." She said with a sigh, "Nothing at all. Completely healthy." House glared at Emily, who didn't look surprised in the least.

"Told you." She said, giving him a small smile.

"Smugness is not an attractive quality." House murmured, throwing the file down on the desk. He glanced up at Chase and Cameron, "So, any ideas?"

"Are you sure..." Chase started, pointing at Emily, obviously uncomfortable with discussing her medical condition in front of her. House rolled his eyes.

"Maybe if you talk _really_ quietly she won't hear you!" He whispered. Chase frowned and folded his arms across his chest.

"Could be um..." Cameron started, furrowing her brow, "Pulmonary embolism?" House turned quickly round to Emily.

"Is it painful to breathe? Do you get shortness of breath?" House asked. Emily looked slightly taken aback but shook her head, "It's not pulmonary embolism. Do a pulmonary angiography just to be sure." Chase walked over to Emily, gently taking her by the arm and began to lead her away to the door.  
"Have you had breakfast yet?" He asked. Emily shook her head.

"No, I haven't eaten since last night." Chase nodded and smiled sweetly, and opened the door for them to leave.

"Not yet!" House cried. He made a 'tsk' noise and rolled his eyes, "We're not done with her yet. So, what else could it be?"

"HHT." Chase sighed, letting of Emily's arm with a shrug, "Osler-Weber-Rendu syndrome can cause hemoptysis." Emily suddenly shook her head, House raised an eyebrow.

"No, it's not that." Emily quickly said, "I don't have nose bleeds." House nodded in agreement with her.

"She's not anaemic either. It's not HHT." He muttered. Cameron ran a hand through her hair.

"Goodpastures syndrome?" She asked. House leant forward in his seat, leaning his elbows against the desk and hiding his face in his hand. He shook his head.

"Tell them why Emily." He called. Emily was slightly surprised but shrugged and turned to Cameron.

"My kidney's aren't failing." She murmured, "They're fine."

"Seriously, a 16 year old knows more medicine than you do!" House groaned.

"17." Cameron corrected.

"Oh, one year, big difference." House growled sarcastically, he turned to Chase and nodded for him to leave, "Go do the pulmonary angiography." Chase nodded and left the room, Emily obediently followed him. Cameron dipped her hands into her pockets and opened her mouth to say something. House cut her off, "You can go too, I'm sure there's a dying child somewhere which needs you to hold it's hand" Cameron scowled at him and turned on her heel and left.

House exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes again. Emily was a mystery.


	6. Burning from the Inside

Pulmonary angiography. I was not looking forward to this. As Dr. Chase brought me out of House's office my mother spotted us. She had been waiting in my room, and had obviously been wondering where I'd got to. Her face was flushed and her hair was unkempt as she ran up to me.

"Emily, where were you? I went to your room and you were gone!" My mother cried.

"Calm down. I was talking to the doctors." I explained. Chase nodded from beside me in agreement. My mother scowled and glared at Chase.

"You should have been talking to _me_." My mum hissed, she then looked me up and down, "Honey, why aren't you in your hospital gown? Go on, get back into bed."

"Actually, she's going for a pulmonary angriography." Chase told her. My mum's face dropped and she looked from me to Chase and back again.

"A **_what_**?"

"It's nothing mom." I reassured her, "I'll be fine!"

"There _are_ risks..." Chase murmured slowly. I glared at him. My mothers eyes widened.

"Risks, what type of risks?" She cried.

"She could have a bad reaction to the contrast medium." Chase told her quietly. I shook my head.

"I'm not going to." I insisted, "trust me, I'll be okay."

"What is it? This pulmonary angy-" My mom started, still sounding panicked.

"It's basically an X-ray of the blood vessels in the lungs." Chase explained. My mom took a deep breath and tried to smile shakily.

"An X-ray, that's okay right?" She said to herself. I nodded and smiled supportively.

"Yes, it's absolutely fine." I told her, I flashed her a reassuring smile, "Everything's going to be fine, they're trying to help me." Mom nodded, but was lost in thought. Chase tugged on my arm.

"Come on. X-ray's waiting." Chase whispered to me. I nodded and waved goodbye to my mother, making my way over to the elevator.

--

I lay on my back, the X-ray table was cold, and very hard on my back. But I did not mind, I knew that this was nothing. Both Dr. Chase and Dr. Foreman were standing next to me. I was wearing a hospital gown, I had just got out of it and now I was just back in it.

"Ready?" Chase asked me. I pursed my lips together and slowly nodded.

"Sure." I whimpered. I felt the sting of the needle as Chase injected my leg with the anaesthetic.  
"We're going to insert the Catheter now, okay?" I nodded again, "Your leg's been numbed, but your artery hasn't. So this is going to hurt."

"I know." I moaned. Dr. Foreman raised an eyebrow at me. I shut my eyes as I felt the pressure of the needle going through my skin and winced as a sharp pain shot up my leg, it was in my artery. I exhaled slowly, and noticed that my hands were both balled into fists at either side of me, my nails digging into my palms.

"You okay there?" Foreman asked. I nodded quickly.

"Yeah." I squeaked. I giggled slightly, "It stings."

"I know." He sighed, "We're going to inject the dye now..." I took a deep breath.

"This is going to burn, isn't it?" I looked up at Chase and he nodded. I shrugged, "No pain, no gain, right?"

"Right." Chase said, "Okay, here we go." I inhaled again as the burning sensation started at where the needle had gone in, and gradually moved, coursing up my leg and through my body. It was odd, as if I was burning from the inside. I bit down on my lower lip and grimaced at the discomfort, but kept quiet.

"See anything?" Chase asked Foreman who's eyes were glued on a screen of the x-rays of my lungs, I looked over at him as he shook his head, "Keep looking."

This continued on for a good few minutes, I was getting used to the discomfort and I watched as Dr. Foreman kept his eyes peeled, but didn't find anything.

"Nothing's there." I whispered. Foreman swung round, surprised I had spoken.

"Nothing yet, but we'll find it." He reassured me. I let out a breathy laugh and shook my head.

"No, seriously. Nothing's there." I insisted, "I've had this done before. I don't have a clot." Foreman frowned, realising I was probably right and turned to Chase.

"House _did_ say it wasn't a pulmonary embolism." Chase murmured. He then decided to withdraw the needle and Catheter. I stayed stock still on the table, not moving an inch after my last experience with Chase and a needle. Quickly after I felt pressure on my leg and looked up, Chase was pressing down on it to stop it from bleeding.

"You can sit up now." Foreman told me. I nodded and pushed myself upright, taking over applying the pressure to the hole in my leg and swinging round so I was sitting on the edge of the table. Suddenly the door to the X-ray room swung open and House was standing there.

"So, any news?" He asked, limping in. Foreman and Chase both shook their heads.

"Damn it. I got all excited for nothing." He walked over to where they were both standing and stopped looking me up and down, "Got the good ol' hospital gown back on I see, it was only a matter of time." I shook my head and glared him, but kept my mouth shut, "What's next on the agenda?"

"Nothing." Foreman said quickly, "You ruled everything out."

"Not everything." House murmured, attempting to be mysterious. I cocked my head to one side, curious about what he was talking about. He turned to leave, "Chase, bring her back to her room. Foreman, come with me." Chase sighed slightly and helped me get into a nearby wheelchair. I wasn't actually able to walk, due to the hole in my leg, so I gladly allowed him to wheel me out of X-ray and all the way up to my room.

"What does House want with Dr. Foreman?" I asked as I arrived at the door of my hospital room. My mother was sitting inside, chewing on her nails, looking terrified. Chase shrugged.

"No idea."

--

"Wegeners granulomatosis?" Foreman asked House, he was standing in his office, facing his desk. House, who was lazing back in his chair quickly nodded, "But her X-Ray came back clean."

"Yeah, but she has pulmonary vasculitis..." House pointed out. He furrowed his brow for a second, "At least, I think she does."

"Her kidneys are fine." Foreman groaned, "Apart from haemoptysis there's nothing to suggest Wegeners, she doesn't have oral ulcers or bloody nasal discharge. All she has is a cough."

"Biopsy her lung." House murmured. Foreman folded his arms across his chest.

"No."

"What do you mean '_no_'? Go biopsy her lung!" He cried. Foreman shook his head.

"There's nothing to biopsy! No mass, no disease. I'm not going to put her through another painful unnecessary test, just to prove that she hasn't got what we _know_ she hasn't got!" Foreman spat. House glared at him.

"Fine then." He moaned. He rubbed his forehead, trying to think, "Do a bronchoscopy."

"Why?" Foreman asked. House pushed himself up out of the chair.

"Something's wrong with her lungs." He cried, "So we look at her lungs. You're the one who doesn't want to poke needles in her anymore, go shove a tube down her throat instead!"

Foreman continued to scowl, House was being weird. He never usually liked to test for things which had been ruled out already. He stuck to the symptoms, and tried to figure out what would cause those symptoms, not try and add any on to fit his diagnosis.

"House, whatever this is, she's had it for five years. **Five years!**" Foreman pointed out, "Whatever it is obviously isn't killing her."

"You don't know that." House spat. He turned round and limped out of his office. Foreman slowly exhaled, wondering why this case was getting to House so much.


	7. Suffocate

**Seriously awful medical precision with the bronchoscopy. Sorry. It's just for drama.**

--

"Is your leg okay?" My mothers voice was slightly timid. I sat on my bed, my legs were stretched out in front of me, and my right thigh had gauze wrapped round it, holding a piece of white cloth in place, like a tourniquet. I nodded and smiled sympathetically at my mother.

"Yes, mom, I'm fine." I told her. My leg was sore, especially round where the needle had gone in. I still had my hospital gown on, not daring to put jeans on or anything over the bandage.

"I hate hospitals." My mother moaned, she was sitting in a seat next to my bed, and her knee was bouncing up and down nervously.

"Yeah, well, I love hospitals." I murmured. My mother frowned and she glanced up at me.

"How long have you been sick?" My mother ask, a note of hurt in her voice. I looked down at my leg and shrugged.

"A while." I said quietly.

"Five _years_ and you didn't... and I didn't notice." My mother whispered to herself. I was beginning to feel guilty.

"Mom, it's not your fault. I'm good at hiding it." I explained. My mother nodded and a watery smile broke over her face.

"Did your father know?" She asked, "Did you... did you tell him?" I quickly shook my head.

"I didn't tell anybody, except the doctors." I confessed, "I didn't want to worry you." My mum laughed loudly and looked down at her feet.

"You did a great job there." She spat. I furrowed my brow.

"Does dad know I'm here?" I asked. She looked back at me.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean did you call him?" I explained, "Did you tell him I was sick?" My mother pursed her lips together, obviously angry.

"That's right, blame me for you father not showing up!" She cried, "It's not my fault he doesn't care about you!" There was suddenly a knock at the door and my head sprang up, completely shocked at my mother's reaction. I allowed a smile to grow on my lips as I noticed it was House standing there, a piece of paper in his hand, the door was open and he was looking on.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" He asked. I quickly shook my head, trying to ignore the fact that I felt as if I was about to burst into tears.

"No, not at all." I murmured. My mother leant back in her chair, embarrassed about what had happened. Then she got up and smoothed down the tight black t-shirt she was wearing.

"I'm going to go and get some... coffee..." She muttered. She walked towards the door, pushing past House and hanging her head. He raised his eyebrows and walked over to me. I just looked down at my lap, not meeting his eyes.

"I'm sorry for walking in on that charming display of affection." He murmured. I laughed, but at the same time a tear rolled down my cheek, I hastily wiped it away.

"It's not her fault." I whispered, I looked up at him, "She's going through withdrawal."

"That makes it A-Okay then!" House muttered sarcastically. He sat down on the edge of my bed, "How are you holding up?" I shrugged.

"I'm fine." I sighed, "My leg hurts a bit but... that's normal." I hoped he couldn't notice the sound of tears in my voice. I knew he could, but he chose to ignore it.

"I want to do a bronchoscopy." He told me. I bit down on my lower lip and slowly nodded.

"I hate those." I whimpered quietly.

"It'll give us a better idea of what we're looking for." He promised. I shook my head.

"No it won't." I sighed. House lifted up the piece of paper which was in his hand and offered it to me, I plucked it out of his hand and looked at it, another smile cracked on my face, "Consent form." House nodded.

"I know you don't like it but, the quicker it's done, the quicker it's over with." He said. I nodded and grinned at him.

"Got a pen?"

--

"Open wide." I obediently opened my mouth as Dr. Cameron instructed and shut my eyes. I was sitting up on a hard table in what looked like an OR. There was a viewing gallery and a large TV screen next to where I was sitting. Dr Cameron was holding a can of some sort of spray and put her finger on my chin, making sure my mouth was wide enough. She then sprayed it into the back of my throat. I winced, it was freezing.

"That will numb the back of your throat." She told me. I nodded and shut my mouth. I could feel it running down my throat and I began to gag and cough, leaning over and placing a hand over my mouth.

"That's perfectly normal." Chase told me, he was standing next to the large TV screen and I nodded, continuing to cough. I inhaled deeply and sat up straight, trying to stop coughing. I looked down at my hand and frowned. I turned it round to show Chase.

"Is that normal?" I whispered my mouth dry and my throat feeling thick. There was a small smatter of blood on the palm of my hand. Chase frowned.

"For you?" He sighed, "Yeah." Cameron had the bronchoscope in her hand. She flashed me a sympathetic smile.

"Ready?" She asked. I pursed my lips together. I couldn't feel the back of my throat or parts of my tongue, and I no longer needed to cough. I slowly nodded.

"Okay." I whimpered. I glanced over at the gallery, and saw House standing there, leaning against a wall, watching, eating what looked like a packet of peanuts. I smiled lightly at him and turned back to Cameron, nodding at her again, showing her I was ready.

She pried my mouth open again and I tried to keep it wide, as she snaked the bronchoscope over my tongue and into my trachea. I tried to keep breathing through my nose as I felt it tugging as it slid down. Chase had his eyes glued to the screen, which was showing the inside of my throat.

"Okay, you're in the trachea..." He said, watching intently. Cameron nodded and continued to lower it down my throat. I shut my eyes, which were beginning to water, I couldn't breathe.

"Hang on in there." Cameron murmured to me, I gripped the edge of the table, concentrating on breathing.

"You're now going into the left primary bronchus..." Chase announced. I was being suffocated, I couldn't breathe at all.

"Emily, it's okay, you're fine," Cameron reassured me. She turned to Chase, "See anything?"

"Go further into the lung." Chase instructed, Cameron nodded and slipped more of the bronchoscope down my throat, I whimpered, and blinked a couple of times, getting the water out of my eyes.

"Can you see anything now?" Cameron asked, "A haemorrhage?" Chase shook his head.

"Nothing, her lungs are healthy..." He said, sounding surprised.

"Maybe there's a haemorrhage in her right lung?" Cameron suggested. I tried to shake my head, but I couldn't, the tube down my throat was making it difficult to move my neck. I attempted to breathe through my mouth, but I couldn't.

"Pull it back a bit." Chase told Cameron, she did, pulling some of the tube out, but I still was struggling to breathe.

"Just a bit longer..." She said, pushing it in again. I tried not to splutter or gasp for air, it would be painful. I needed to cough.

"Okay, you're in the right lung." Chase muttered his eyes not moving. I glanced at the screen, my insides were disgusting. I attempted to say 'ew', but my mouth was full.

"Come on, there has to be something!" Cameron groaned. Chase shook his head. Suddenly I coughed, and felt myself beginning to need to gag again. Cameron's eyes widened and she turned to Chase.

"Chase, the anaesthetic is wearing off!" She cried. I was beginning to cough loudly, trying to breath, but my throat seemed to be closing over. I really couldn't breathe now. Chase swung round, taking the bronchoscope off Cameron as I gagged and tried to sit upright as I heaved and spluttered. He slowly began to withdraw the Bronchoscope.

"Come on!" He said through gritted teeth, the drugs which were numbing my throat and keeping it relaxed had worn off, now my throat was tightened round the tube, and it was making it difficult for Chase to pull it out. This went on for a few minutes, me coughing, Chase tugging at the tube, desperate to remove it from my throat, "Are you sure you put enough anaesthetic on?"

"Yes! Be careful!" Cameron hissed, worried that if they pulled it out to quickly they'd damage my trachea. I tried to concentrate on breathing, in, out, in and out, but I seemed to be suffocating. I heard the door suddenly swing open but I couldn't turn my head.

"Let go of it!" It was House, he must have realised what was happening while he was watching up in the gallery. House took over from Chase, gripping the bronchoscope.

"Emily, Emily!" He cried, trying to get my attention. I looked up at him, continuing to cough, "Calm down!" I took a deep breath, but it didn't work. I shut my eyes and concentrated on breathing, getting in air through my gagging and spluttering. After a few minutes House had somehow managed to work it out of my airways, and I was left gasping for air, hunched over on the table.

"What were you doing?!" House screamed at Chase and Cameron. They both jumped slightly, surprised at the anger in his voice. My throat was aching and felt as if razorblades had just been shoved down it, "Were you **trying** to kill her?"

"The anaesthetic, it wore o-" Cameron whispered but House cut her off.

"Yes, it did! Because you took too long!" House snapped, "You just _had_ to go and check in the other lung, without reapplying the anaesthetic!" I was slightly frightened of how angry he was. I massaged my throat, trying not to cough or make a noise.

"Look, we made a mistake." Chase sighed, "we thought we'd put enough on."

"Well, you hadn't!" House hissed, he turned round and looked down at me and frowned, he lowered his voice, "Your mom's waiting for you upstairs." I nodded, but didn't smile, my hand still at my neck.

House pursed his lips together and glanced from Chase, to Cameron, to me and then turned on his heel, stalking out of the room, obviously still pissed off.

--

"I can't do it." Dr. Wilson looked up from where he was sitting at his desk in his office, to see his best friend standing at his door, a frown on his face. He raised an eyebrow. House actually looked... upset.

"Can't do what?" He asked putting some paperwork which he had been working on to one side as House limped over to a chair at the side of his room, sitting down and laying back.

"I can't figure out what's wrong with her." He murmured, more to himself than to Wilson. Wilson shrugged.

"You will, eventually." He sighed, "You always do."

"Wow!" House cried, "You're right, I do, I'll go upstairs and tell her that, and she'll be magically cured!"

"What's wrong?" Wilson groaned. House shot him a death glare.

"I just told you." He spat, "Or were you too busy fantasizing about bald cancer patients to notice?" Dr. Wilson pursed his lips together and tried to ignore the comment.

"Why do you..." Wilson took a deep breath, trying to see whether he could phrase this anyway which couldn't be taken as offensive. He shook his head, there was no way, "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm a big fuzzy ball of love today and she has the dreamiest eyes..." House sighed. He glanced at Wilson, he did not look amused. House shrugged, "I have no idea."

"What's wrong with her?" Wilson asked, realising that House was genuinely worried.

"Haemoptysis." House sighed. Wilson furrowed his brow, slightly confused.

"This might sound crazy coming from an Oncologist, but, it's lung cancer." Wilson slowly stated.

"Really? Gosh, I never thought of that, you smart, smart man!" House muttered, "Her X-ray's are clean, her CT showed... nothing, except for the fact that she's never smoked a day in her life."

"That's odd." Wilson murmured, "Why don't you just go discuss it all with your little followers?"

"I did." House groaned, "They ended up nearly killing her." Wilson raised his eyebrows and slowly nodded.

"Ah, so that's why you're here." He said in a matter-of-fact way.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you actually care about this patient." Wilson chuckled, "That's the only reason you're not sitting in your office ordering life threatening tests and treatments for her!" House shook is head.

"No. I'm here because I've ran out of life threatening tests and treatments!" House insisted. Wilson continued to laugh.

"You? Run out of ridiculous theories?" Wilson shook his head, "You care, not about the diagnosis, not about the medicine, but about the patient. You're testing her instead of treating her. You're being cautious. You don't want her to get hurt. You don't want her to die."

"I liked it better when you didn't listen." House growled, pushed himself up off the seat and hobbled out of the room, trying to ignore what Wilson said.


	8. Papa Bear

**Okay. A little heads up about this story. Firstly, House is not Emily's dad.**

**Secondly, it is a romance.**

**Thirdly, not between Sara and House. I sort of gave a subtle warning about it on the first chapter. Which basically tells you who it's between, although I doubt any of you will like it.**

--

I sat up on my bed, my blankets pulled up round my waist, my back propped up on some pillows. I was watching TV, trying not to laugh at the funny parts or the parts which made me happy. My throat was killing me; it felt as if it was on fire. I heard the door open and I turned round, Dr. Chase walked in. I smiled pleasantly at him and he gladly returned it.

"How are you holding up?" He asked. I shrugged.

"I'm okay." I whispered, my voice husky. He furrowed his brow, obviously noticing the sound of my voice, "it's fine, just a bit sore."

"I'm really sorry about that." He sighed. I shook my head.

"No, it's fine, it's not your fault. I'm hardly going to sue or anything!" I told him, my voice was hoarse and nearly inaudible. Chase continued to look guilty. He cleared his throat and tried to hide it.

"Well, the bronchoscope just showed us what we already knew." He started to explain, "That your lungs are completely healthy." I slowly nodded and frowned, biting down on my bottom lip.

"You're not going to find out what's wrong with me." I sighed. I felt the familiar feeling of disappointment settle over me and I looked away. I couldn't help it, I was an optimist, the reason why I was even in this hospital was because it was famous for its diagnostic department. It was the best.

Chase noticed my expression and he sat down on the edge of my bed, and slipped his hand into mine, lacing his fingers around my fingers.

"We will." He promised, a sincere look in his eyes, "I swear, we'll find out what's causing this."

There was a noise of someone clearing their throat, and Chase pulled back, releasing my hand, and turning to look at the door. From his reaction I guessed that he was expecting to see House, but he wasn't there. Instead a tall man stood in the doorway, he had a thick black beard and had a huge grin on his face, and his eyes were crinkling at the edges from the smile. He was wearing jeans and a plain white shirt. A grin split across my own face, forgetting quickly about the fact that I was in hospital, or that I couldn't speak, or that my mother was frequently having nervous breakdowns. None of that mattered, because he was here.

"Dad!"

--

Sara wasn't happy in the least. She wasn't well adapted to cope with these situations, and she'd been craving a fix ever since she walked through the doors of the hospital. There was one thing that scared her more than not shooting up though, and that was being judged. She needed to take Emily home, she just had to, then people here would stop making assumptions and she could go back to being doped up to her eyeballs.

She tore down the hallway in the hospital, finding a door with his name on it. Dr. Gregory House, god, how much she hated him, he'd seen right through her the moment she'd entered the building, and from then on had just continued being cruel to her. She didn't bother to knock, what was the point? He'd be rude to her anyway; the least she could do was get in there first.

"I want to take her home!" She announced, House had been sitting at his desk, but he wasn't alone, there were two other people in the room, one she recognised as Dr. Foreman, and the other was a woman with dark curly hair, wearing a suit and looked very official. Sara quickly felt heat rise to her face.

"Well, nice to see you too." House muttered, he glanced at the official looking woman, "This charming young lady is Sara Laine." He told her. The woman flashed her a nervous smile, "Sara, this is Cuddy. She runs the hospital." Sara ignored both Cuddy and Dr. House.

"I want to take Emily home." She cried, "**Now**!" Dr. Foreman raised his eyebrows and took a step towards her.

"We haven't finished her tests." He told her slowly, as if expecting her to explode. Sara pursed her lips together, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

"I don't care!" She snarled, "I don't want her to spend another minute in this place!"

"You don't want _her_ to, or _you_ don't want to?" House asked. Cuddy glanced from the hysterical Sara back to House and cleared her throat.

"I think I'm going to go..." She sighed, flashing Sara a smile and quickly stepping past her, leaving as quickly as possible. Dr. Foreman then stepped forward as well.

"Me too." He murmured, and hastily escaped the room. Sara, glad that she no longer had to worry about the other two doctors, walked briskly over to House's desk. He continued to look up at her with an expression of slight amusement on his face.

"I don't want you treating my daughter anymore." She hissed. House raised his eyebrows.

"Now that's just plain mean!" He cried. Sara narrowed her eyes.

"I want to take my daughter home." She continued, trying to calm down a bit. She was feeling a little shaky. House smirked at her.

"Last time I checked, it wasn't up to you!" House pointed out, "About that, is the reason she gets to make all the grown up decisions because of what's happening now? The sweating, the fever, the shakes... or is that the look you're going for?" Sara felt even more rage build up in her.

"I'm going to go and bring Emily home." Sara spat, turning on her heel.

"She won't go easily!" House called after her. Sara stopped and slowly spun round.

"I'm her mother." She said, "She does what I ask her to do."

"Yeah, but unlike you, she actually cares about her health." House growled. Sara was infuriated, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I care about her." Sara explained, "I care about her because she's all I have. And you, and this hospital, aren't making her better. She's going home, I'll tell her to leave and she'll listen to me, because I'm her mother. You aren't, you don't have the right to tell her what to do."

"That's right!" House laughed, "I mean I am only the person who's trying to save her life."

"You're not family." Sara hissed, "Emily listens to me because I'm her family."

"You're not her only family." House muttered. Sara's face dropped and she stepped forward, her arms falling down by her side, her face contorted in anger.

"What?!" She spat.

"Oh, you didn't hear?" House asked, feigning mock surprise, "Good ol' Papa bear turned up about half an hour ago searching for his invalid daughter." Sara's mouth slowly dropped open and she began to shake her head, she looked as if she wanted to turn but couldn't quite manage it. House couldn't help but smirk again.

"I'm guessing he _actually_ cares about her."


	9. Better Than Drugs

I was sitting up straight in my bed, a large smile on my face, as my father took a seat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. He glanced round the room, an impressed look on his face, and eventually turned round to me.

"Long time, no see kiddo!" He laughed. I nodded, and looked down at my hands which were crossed over in my lap, I furrowed my brow.

"Did... um..." I flashed him another smile, "Did mum phone you?" I asked. My dad's brow furrowed and he slowly shook his head.

"No, I called your house a couple of times, no one was picking up. So I phoned your school, they said you were in hospital." He explained, he chuckled slightly, "Gave me the biggest fright of my life, but look at you!"

"I feel completely fine." I confessed, trying to cover up my hoarse voice, "but no one knows what's wrong with me."

"They'll figure it out." My dad promised me. I frowned slightly, everyone had been saying that, I wasn't going to start believing it now, but I shrugged and tried to look hopeful.

"So..." I sighed, "How's life? How's Carolin?" My dad shrugged, scratching his chin absent mindedly. My father was married to a young woman called Carolin, they'd been married for just over fifteen years.

"She's the same as always." He groaned, "She's obsessed with Lily, won't let me take her out by myself." I smiled at him, Lily was his and Carolin's daughter, she was four years old, and I'd only seen her once. She had short blonde hair and a button nose. She was the epitome of cute.

"She should grow out of it, I'm sure all mothers go through that over protective stage." I suggested. Perfectly on cue my door burst open and there was my own mother, standing there, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, completely infuriated.

"**Get out!**" She cried. My father scowled at her and stood up, but made no movement to suggest he was going to leave. My mother walked over to him, not backing down. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. I pushed myself up in my bed, looking worriedly from one to the other.

"Emily's in hospital." My father started, a hint of anger in his voice, "And you don't even call?"

"Where does your wife think you are?" My mother snapped, "At work, out with some friends, what is it this time?" She was getting hysterical. I pursed my lips together, wanting to intervene but not knowing whether it was a smart thing to do.

"I came to see Emily!" He growled, "I don't need this!"

"Right, because you _really_ care about Emily." She spat sarcastically, "You're not going to leave her bedside!"

"What is up with you?" He asked, an exasperated tone to his voice.

"**What's up**? I didn't want you here! I don't want you near her!" I glanced over out the large window which doubled as a wall, and saw House standing there, watching from in between the blinds. I sighed and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, picking myself up so I was standing up straight. I wrapped my hand round my drip and made my way over to the door.

"She's my daughter; it's not up to you!" My father was screaming. They were too busy to notice me leaving. I walked into the hallway, closing the door silently behind me, and glanced over at House. He looked miserable, as per usual. I walked over to him, flashing him an apologetic smile. He dipped one hand into his blazer pocket, and pulled out a bright coloured lolly.

"Trust me, it helps, better than drugs." He sighed, handing it to me. I smirked, taking it off him and unwrapping it, sticking it into my mouth. Raspberry. House glanced up at my parents again, "What are they fighting about?"

"Usual." I murmured, "They don't like each other." House remained silent for a few minutes, his forehead crinkled with a frown. He was thinking. I looked expectantly up at him.

"She wants to take you home." House murmured eventually, there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. I slowly nodded.

"Okay..." I muttered. I was slightly confused, House noticed.

"Are you going to?" House asked, as if it was the most obvious question in the world. I looked at him, was he serious?

"No." I said slowly, "Of course not." House nodded, glancing back into the room, where my mother and father were still bickering, not having noticed I'd disappeared. House looked at me again, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Look's like they're going to be a while." He sighed, "Want to go get dinner?"

--

"You do realise everyone's staring at you." I whispered to House. We were both seated in the cafeteria, House lying back in his chair, a half eaten sandwich sitting in front of him. I was sitting opposite him, with my IV still attached to my arm. House just shrugged.

"They're just jealous, it's the hospital gown." He told me. I smiled slightly and looked down at my plate, a limp looking salad lay there and I screwed up my face slightly, "It's healthy."

"I asked for a burger." I pointed out. He shrugged.

"Thought you could use to lose some weight." I smirked at him and lifted up a fork, spooning some lettuce and a tomato into my mouth, it tasted sour. I swallowed it quickly, noticing he wasn't eating.

"Why do you put up with them?" He asked a serious look on his face. I shrugged, continuing to poke my salad around my plate.

"Are we playing this game again?" I sighed, "Fine. How did you hurt your leg?"

"We're playing 'ask the awkward personal questions'" House said with a frown, "Not 'ask the awkward medical questions', otherwise I'd have asked 'hey, what's with the blood spouting from your mouth?'" I frowned at him, but sighed, deciding that perhaps if I was honest with him he'd stop annoying me about it.

"Fine." I groaned, "But you need to buy me a decent meal."

"I don't know." He murmured, pretending to consider it, "I like my girls skinny."

"I like my guys with full use of both legs." I snapped back. House's jaw dropped.

"That hurt!" He cried, I gave him a wry smile, and continued to fiddle with my food.

"My mum and dad don't get along, never have and I doubt they ever will." I explained in a matter-of-fact tone, "That's why I put up with them, they're never going to change."

"That's a lovely optimistic view on life you have there."

"There's optimistic, and then there's delusional." I told him. I shovelled a piece of cucumber into my mouth, and grimaced, it was soggy.

"Why did they split up?" House asked. I laughed slightly.

"Split up? They were never together!" I put down my fork and rested back on my seat, giving up on my meal, "I'm the result of one too many shots of tequila and a cheap Barry White CD. They were never together, only had known each other for a few hours..."

"How romantic." House muttered.

"I know." I giggled, "But hey, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for tequila."

"Thank god for tequila, right?" House sighed under his breath. He looked down at his feet, bouncing his cane absentmindedly and looked back at me, "Why were you emancipated, I mean I get the whole 'mother is a junkie' thing, but I mean your dad seems..."

"My dad has a life which doesn't involve me or my mother." I murmured, "He has his wife, and his own kid, and even though I'm his daughter and he cares about me, he doesn't want to ruin that. He figured me getting emancipated meant I could look after myself."

"Also means he's no longer responsible for you." House mused, "He sounds like a stand up guy."

"He is." I interjected quickly, suddenly feeling defensive. I paused and ran a hand through my hair, "His wife doesn't know about me, she doesn't know I exist. If she found out his marriage would be over and he'd lose everything. _He_ didn't even know I existed until three years after I was born."

"Let me guess, that darling mother of yours needed money from him..." He suggested, "For drugs?"

"Spot on." I said with a smile on my face, "What can I say, my family is complicated."

"And yet you're not all damaged and angst ridden." He murmured. I grinned at him and pointed to myself.

"Optimist, remember?" I reminded him. He scowled at me.

"I hate optimists." I shrugged, pushing my plate across the table towards him.

"You still owe me a meal."


	10. She Likes Me

**Warning: Random angry House.**

**Third person P.O.V.**

--

House limped casually out of the cafeteria, his young patient trailing after him. He'd just bought her a pizza, which she'd gladly split with him, and was now looking round the corridors with wide eyes as they made their way over to the elevator, soaking in everything around her. He studied her for a second as he pressed the button and stood waiting patiently.

She wasn't like any other patient he'd had before, she was oddly happy. Sure, she was young, but from what he'd heard she had more than one excuse to lose her faith in humanity, and yet there she was, constantly smiling and laughing. It wasn't healthy, and from what House could tell, wasn't normal.

The lift doors opened and he stepped in, Emily following suit and taking her place beside him, looking round the lift before looking up at him, the same casual smile on her lips. He tried not to look at her, but couldn't help it, his eyes sliding down and meeting hers.

"You smile too much." He remarked. Emily raised her eyebrows, slightly surprised, but her smile stayed in place.

"Is that a bad thing?" She asked slowly. House nodded quickly.

"It's annoying." House muttered. Emily allowed the smile to drop from her lips and turned round, looking dead ahead, her lips pursed together, smile gone, House felt unnerved, "That's just scary."

"Why can't I smile." She asked.

"Because you've got nothing to smile about." House sighed, looking up at the numbers indicating the floors, "You're dying, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Emily muttered, but she smiled again, laughing lightly, "Still, we got to die sometime, right?"

"You're not... normal." House groaned as the doors opened. Emily shrugged and stepped out in front of him.

"I could have told you that." They both made their way back to her room, House quickly noticing that something was wrong.

There was Cuddy, standing in front of Emily's room, a stressed look on her face, two people standing in front of her. One was Emily's hysterical mother, the other one was her tall intimidating looking father who just looked angry. Cuddy turned round slowly, noticing them quickly, her face lighting up. Both House and Emily stopped in their tracks, looking strangely guilty.

"Oh my God!" Sara squealed, running over to them at full speed, flinging herself on top of her helpless daughter, enveloping her in a tight hug. Emily looked up at House over her mothers shoulder, an overwhelmed look on her face. House just looked on, slightly amused, "Where did you go, we just turned round and you weren't there."

"I took her to get something to eat." House explained as the father lumbered over, he was slightly taller than House, and a lot bigger, "thought since no one else was feeding her, I should."

"Who's this?" The father asked, gesturing to House. Sara finally released Emily from her grip and looked at House, a frown instantly returning to her face.

"This is my Doctor." Emily told him, "Dr. House."

"And you must be the absentee father," House muttered, her fathers brow furrowed and a look of anger crossed his face again, "Sorry, was that offensive?"

"Excuse me!" He growled. Cuddy quickly walked over and placed a hand on House's shoulder.

"I need to talk to you, now." Cuddy insisted. House kept eye contact with Emily's father.

"No, I want to know where he took my daughter." Her father spat.

"The cafeteria." House explained, "You should go there sometime, good coffee, Sara's never out of the place. Any excuse to stay away from your sick kid, huh?"

"What?!" Sara cried, wrapping her arm around Emily's shoulder and pulling her close to her. Emily looked down at the ground, clearly uncomfortable.

"House. My office. Now." Cuddy said through gritted teeth.

"The only way she can get your attention is by coughing up blood." House snapped, "And even then she doesn't tell either of you, oh, I wonder why?"

"House, leave it!" Cuddy cried. House completely ignored her.

"Maybe it's because her mother is a junkie and her father is too busy in his perfect life to notice!" He yelled.

"**House!**" A voice snapped him out of his rage and he looked down to see Emily staring up at him, her eyes wide in shock. He pursed his lips together, giving her parents one last glare before turning and limping off in the opposite direction, still feeling anger pulse through his body.

--

"What the _hell_ was that?!" Cuddy was yelling. She was busy pacing round her office, her eyes wide in horror, obviously outraged and slightly panicked. House was just sitting in a chair in front of her desk, staring off into space, his cane hanging limply from his hand, "You can't talk to patient's parents like that, her mother was already talking about taking her out of the hospital. I won't be surprised if they ask for another doctor, never mind switch hospitals."

"It won't matter." House murmured.

"What do you mean it won't matter? Do you not want to stay on this case?" She cried, sitting down on the edge of her desk, meeting House's eyes.

"I won't get taken off the case." House sighed. Cuddy looked surprised.

"You seriously expect them to still want you treat their daughter after that... display?" House shook his head.

"No, probably not, but it doesn't matter what _they_ want." House told her.

"Of course it matters what they want." Cuddy screamed, "They're her parents!"

"She was emancipated." House told her, "When she was 14. So she makes all the decisions." Cuddy frowned, not fully convinced.

"What makes you think she won't want a new doctor?" She asked cautiously. House flashed her a smug grin.

"She likes me!" Cuddy scowled at him.

"You still can't take patients on little walks around the hospital." House glared at her.

"Wilson does it all the time, helps him bond." House protested, "Maybe I should start bonding with patients."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that your patient is a pretty teenage girl."

"Who looks ridiculously hot in a hospital gown." House pointed out. Cuddy's face dropped, "You're just jealous."

"Just- Just find out what's wrong with her." Cuddy sighed. House smiled and pushed himself up out of the chair, leaning on his cane again.

"Will do." He began to limp out of the room.

"And try to do it without offending the patient's family." Cuddy called after him, House frowned.

"But it's what I do best!"

--

**Emily's P.O.V.**

I felt like I was three years old, sat, head hung, on the edge of my bed, my parents standing over me, both red in the face, taking it in turns to scream at me, then scream at each other, all the while my face blank, my hands crossed in my lap, my mind elsewhere.

"You need to leave this hospital." My mother was insisting, "The staff here are clearly unstable."

"Yes, I know a great doctor, he'll figure out what's wrong with you in no time."

"Wait, I don't want her to see anymore doctors." My mother quickly interjected.

"But she's ill, she needs medical attention. It's not like you're paying for it anyway"

"She's fine, it's just a cough."

"Just a cough?" My dad yelled, "She has blood coming out of her mouth!"

"She's had it for years, it hasn't killed her yet."

"It could have, because you failed to notice it."

"I didn't notice it? You don't notice _her_, you never come to see her!" I felt like my head was really heavy, I just wanted to sleep. It had been a ridiculously long day.

"Don't say that, you know I'm busy!"

"Busy my ass! You just can't be bothered."

"Shut up, you're the one who doesn't want to make her better!"

"Hospitals don't help!"

"Not when they're filled with lunatics! She's staying in a hospital."

"She's coming home with me."

"We need to get her a new doctor!"

"She doesn't need a doctor!" I began to wonder if I could run away again, escape, maybe find House and beg him to buy me another awful salad. I glanced at a clock hanging on one of the walls, it was nearing midnight.

"I'm tired." I murmured, my eyelids feeling heavy. My mother and father didn't hear me, they were still yelling at each other.

"Stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about Emily!"

"I am thinking of her, this hospital isn't helping!"

"All you're thinking of is your next fix!"

"I think I'm going to..." I began before I felt a familiar tickle in the back of my throat. I groaned slightly, and pushed myself off the bed, walking over to where they kept the small cardboard bowls and picked them up, feeling my throat constrict and the urge to cough build up as I listened to my parents bickering.

"No, my main concern is Emily, always has been, unlike you!"

"You won't let me be part of her life!"

"I will, but you keep hiding her from that snob of a wife. Where does she think you are, huh? Still at work?"

"That doesn't matter, Emily's sick."

I rolled my eyes and bent over, coughing and spluttering, tasting the copper in my mouth as it bubbled past my lips and splashed into the bowl. I gave a few last chokes and straightened up, hearing the room had gone deadly quiet, I turned round to see my mother standing looking at me with arms folded across her chest, while my father looked horrified.

"What?" I asked timidly.

"Oh my god, Emily, are you okay?" My dad cried, rushing over to my side, wrapping and arm round my shoulder and pulling me close to him. I was slightly surprised.

"I'm fine." I muttered. My dad looked into the bowl, which had a few red spatters in it.

"Oh god, you're really sick!" My dad sounded horrified, "Do you feel weak? Nauseous? Can you breathe alright?"

"She's fine." My mother sighed.

"Fine?!" My dad yelled, "She's coughing up blood. Honey, do you need to sit down?"

"I want to sleep." I groaned, breaking away from my fathers grasp and walking over to the bin, throwing the cardboard bowl in.

"Sleep, okay, you need your rest." My dad mumbled, he walked over to the door, "Me and your mother will leave you, so you can sleep, so you can get better." My mother frowned but walked over to the door, following my father's example. I walked over to my bed and pulled myself up onto it, grabbing the blankets and pulling them up round me.

"Tomorrow morning we're getting her another doctor." I heard my father tell my mother as they left.


	11. The Plague

**Lots more medical inaccuracies.**

**My fault. But let's face it, it's not supposed to be realistic.**

--

"It's not Wegeners..." Cameron trailed off, relaxing back in her chair. Chase and Foreman were sitting round the table with her, frowns and perplexed looks on their faces, House, on the other hand, was standing at his board. His board was empty except for a large underlined word 'Haemoptysis'. He was staring at it, as if an answer was about to spring off the page.

"Could still be Goodpastures syndrome." Chase suggested.

"Her symptoms have been constant for the past five years, if it were Goodpastures she'd have no kidneys or lungs left." Cameron groaned.

"Yersinia pestis!" House announced suddenly, writing it down quickly on the board. There was a stunned silence in the room as he swung round and looked at them expectantly.

"You think she has..." Foreman screwed up his face, "Bubonic plague?"

"The one and only!"

"But..." Chase looked confused, "How would she have got it?"

"Her mother's a junkie, and I doubt that the apartment she was living in was particularly sanitary." House explained, "I'm sure there are tonnes of rats running about the place."

"Then why doesn't her mother have it?" Foreman asked. House shrugged.

"Maybe she never leaves her bedroom, stays in there shooting up all day, well clear of rats." House suggested. Cameron furrowed her brow, not convinced.

"Then shouldn't she have a headache, or weakness..." House shrugged again.

"She's a brave girl, maybe she fights through it."

"She'd be dead." Chase pointed out, "People who have bubonic plague who aren't treated die within 6 days of contracting it... she's had this thing for five years!"

"There's an incubation period." House pointed out. Chase rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, of two days at most! Usually it only takes a couple of hours."

"The mortality rate of untreated cases is 95." House sighed.

"Exactly!" Foreman exclaimed.

"That's 5 of people who don't die." House shut his eyes, trying to clear his head, "It fits her symptoms. Almost perfectly."

"Because you're making it fit! It's not bubonic plague." Cameron insisted.

"Start her on Chloramphenicol, 30mg." House murmured. Chase's mouth dropped.

"You're not serious!" He cried, standing up, "Chloramphenicol can cause aplastic anemia and even Leukemia! We don't even know if she has it!"

"She has it." House murmured.

"No!" Chase yelled, "She doesn't! You're just looking for something that fits!"

"If it fits, then she has it!"

"Yeah, well there's no need to put her on Chloramphenicol, it's too dangerous, there are other things we could use..."

"Nothing as effective, if she's had it for five years then Chloramphenicol is the best thing to use!" Chase shook his head.

"No, we're not treating her for bubonic plague. Find something else that fits her symptoms better." He insisted, putting his foot down. House frowned but remained silent, and Foreman, Cameron and Chase all made their way over to the door, leaving him to come up with another idea.

--

House was not looking forward to this. He limped quickly down the hallway, heading to the cafeteria. He guessed he'd be there; maybe he actually took his advice. As he stood suspended in the door way he saw the familiar looking man, lining up in the queue, what looked like a bottle of Pepsi in his hand. House frowned and began walking towards him, trying not to be phased by how scary this man looked.

"Mr. Laine?" He murmured. The man turned round, his face dropping and a scowl forming on his lips.

"That's not my name." He grumbled, moving forward in line, "I'm Jeff Andersen."

"Well, Mr. Andersen..." House sighed, "I need to ask you a few things about your daughter."

"Sara's currently talking to Dr. Cuddy." Jeff explained, handing the bottle of Pepsi to the person behind the counter, who took it and rang it up, "You're no longer Emily's doctor."

"Really, because last time I heard, it wasn't up to you." House spat. Jeff swung round, glaring at House.

"We're still her parents, we have a say."

"Not legally." House was getting frustrated, "Look, I just want to ask you one question, one question and I'll leave." Jeff narrowed his eyes at him.

"What is it?"

"Have you ever brought Emily out of the state," He asked calmly, "To anywhere like... California, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, Texas..."

"Why are you asking me this, why not just ask Sara?" Jeff muttered.

"She doesn't seem like the type of mom who spends money to send her daughter away for summer vacation." House explained. Jeff glared at him, but knew he was right.

"A few years ago she went to Texas with me, on a business trip, why?"

"How old was she when you went?" House asked quickly. Jeff shrugged.

"I think she was... eleven." He was confused, "I don't see what any of this has to do with-" but before he could finish his sentence House and turned round and was hobbling purposefully towards the exit, a hopeful look on his face.

--

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of someone walking into my room, I rolled over, expecting to see my dad, but instead I was met with a pair of grinning blue eyes. I groaned and pushed myself up into a seated position, pulling some hair off my face.

"Morning." House exclaimed, walking briskly over to my beside.

"Morning." I yawned. I looked up at him, he seemed oddly smug. I gave him a confused look and he turned his head round searching for something, "What is it." He took a big black pen out of his pocket.

"I need paper." He muttered, I looked at the table beside my bed and flicked through the stuff I had on it. Some magazines my dad bought me, which he presumed I'd like, but hadn't touched. I handed one to him. He looked at it for a second and raised his eyebrows.

"Vogue?"

"Don't ask." I laughed. He shrugged and found an almost empty page, bent over and began writing on it. I tried to look over his shoulder but he swatted me away.

"No peeking." He growled. I sat back in my bed, watching as he stood up straight, holding the magazine against his chest. He looked at me expectantly, "You're going to love me for this."

"Seriously?" I giggled, "What is it?"

"It's a word." He told me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"A word?" He nodded.

"One that, I hope, all the incompetent doctors beforehand never mentioned to you." My eyes widened and a grin split across my face.

"You know what's wrong with me?" I cried.

"I have a hunch." He muttered. He lifted the magazine and slowly handed it to me. I took it off him and set it down on my lap, reading it intently. There was only one word on it, written crudely across the cream page.

"Coccidioidomycosis..." I whispered, I had a slightly confused look on my face, "Why did you write it down?"

"Just want to hear you try to pronounce it." I began to laugh slightly and looked up at him.

"I've never heard of it before!"

"I presume that's a good thing." I nodded enthusiastically and looked at the word again.

"What is it?"

"When you were eleven, your daddy took you away on a business trip with him, to a magical place called Texas." House began, "Or so he told me. Probably wanted to spend time with his darling daughter. There, said darling, inhaled a certain type of spore called 'C. immitis', which 60 of the time doesn't cause any symptoms. However, you're special, and after a while you developed a chronic pulmonary infection which resulted in..."

"Hemoptysis!" I cried happily. House nodded and couldn't help but smile himself, "So, do I need some sort of test?"

"Afraid so." House sighed, his face dropping. Just then the door opened and my father walked in, carrying a bottle of Pepsi he had went to buy for me. His face contorted with anger as he noticed House standing there.

"Get away from my daughter." He growled, he rushed over to my bedside so he was facing House. House shrugged.

"Fine, but I'm sending Chase over later to shove a needle in her chest." House said, "You'll like him, he's british."

"You're not her doctor anymore." My dad told him through gritted teeth.

"He's not?"

"I'm not?"

"No." My dad handed me the bottle of Pepsi, but I just frowned at him, "So you'll keep away from my daughters chest."

"I wasn't going to go near her chest, Chase was." House glanced at me, "He's the pervert."

"Leave. Now." My dad growled. House shrugged and backed away, obediently leaving, giving me one last knowing look before exiting the door.

--

**A quick no****te.**

**Please do NOT kill me.**

**I based all of Emily's symptoms around 'Coccidioidomycosis'. **

**However, for the sake of the story etc. she's going to be negative.**

**In other words. You will never know w****hat is wrong with her.**

**I'm sorry. **

**But for all of you wondering what she had. Well, it's basically coccidioidomycosis.**

**But if that was the answer in this story... then it would be over by now. **

**And House would never see Emily again.**


	12. Pain Management

**More medical inaccuracies and OOC tendencies. You should really be used to them by now.**

**Thanks to everyone for not hating me. **

--

_  
She's twenty years of strangers looking into each other's eyes  
She's twenty years of clean  
She never truly hated anyone or anything_

_She's a dying breed_

-

House looked round the room, Chase, Cameron and Foreman looking back at him, slightly impressed but still doubtful. House sighed and tapped his cane impatiently on the floor.

"You know I'm right." House muttered. Foreman frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. Chase scratched his head, still unsure.

"Still, you don't need to do a biopsy." He sighed, "I mean, we could just do the treatment, or we could look at her sputum, or all that blood she coughs up..."

"And you honestly think it's going to show something? We need to be sure. Come on, she has perfect lungs despite choking up blood." House insisted, "Why are you all so scared about sticking needles into her, it's not like she's going to deflate."

"It's just unnecessary." Chase said under his breath.

"Well don't worry, you're not going to have to do it." House reassured him, "I haven't forgotten about the last time you went at her with a needle. Plus here dad didn't seem to want you to do it."

"Didn't he ask for _you_ to be taken off the case?" Foreman asked him slowly. House shrugged and twirled his cane absent-mindedly.

"I'm sure he did. But, I'm not _his_ doctor, so he doesn't have a say." House murmured, "Look, just biopsy her damn lung!" Cameron, Chase and Foreman all glanced at each other before shrugging, and pushing themselves upright, heading towards the door.

"Don't use a bronchoscope." House quickly interjected, "Otherwise she'll be traumatised for life." They all nodded and left, House groaning and sitting down on one of the chairs. This case was getting frustrating.

--

"Is it safe this test?" My mother asked nervously. I looked up at Dr. Foreman, who was standing beside my bed. My Dad was seated on one side of the room and my mother was on the other, having calmed down considerably. I pursed my lips together for a moment, thinking.

"I've never had a needle biopsy before," I told him, "I mean, they mentioned it, but they said that since there was no mass, there was nothing to biopsy."

"We're looking for Coccidioidomycosis," He began to explain; "It's caused by a spore, so there would be no mass. We're looking for the antibodies which your body produces to fight against it; we can find those on just a sample of tissue."

"Are there any risks?" My dad asked, my mother quickly nodded after him.

"She's not going to get hurt?" I glanced at my mother, she looked quite panicked.

"There are risks with everything, right?" I murmured. Foreman nodded.

"Yes and this one's no different, there's a risk of bleeding, infection, and worst case scenario pneumothorax."

"Pneumothorax, what's that?" My dad asked obviously suspicious. I looked down at my lap and sighed.

"A collapsed lung." Foreman murmured.

"**WHAT?**" My mother sprang to her feet and shook her head, I knew she wouldn't go along with anything with the slightest risk, after what happened with the bronchoscope and even the blood tests. I seemed to have bad luck. My mothers eyes met my fathers, "She's not having this test."

"What happens if you just... treat it... instead?" My father asked slowly. Foreman pursed his lips together.

"Coccidioidomycosis should go away on its own with rest, but... your daughter's case would have to be pretty severe, so she'd need antibiotics. Most likely Amphotericin B or ketoconazole."

"And are there risks with those?" My dad asked slowly. Foreman reluctantly nodded, and my frown deepened.

"With Amphotericin B the most likely side effects are fever, shaking chills, hypotension, nausea, vomiting, headaches, shortness of breath... the most serious side effect would be... kidney damage and possible Liver failure." My dads face dropped, "Ketoconazole can cause dizziness, fatigue, headaches, vomiting, itchiness... rarely it can cause severe depression."

"No." My dad said suddenly, "No we're not taking the test and we're not giving her treatment. Not with those risks."

"The extreme side effects are very rare, and so is a pneumothorax." Foreman reassured them. My mother did not buy it and she shook her head.

"No, we're not putting our baby through that." I rolled my eyes, and shot her a glare.

"Last time I checked it wasnt up to you." Foreman muttered, he met my eyes, "Emily, what do you want to do?" I bit down on my lip and glanced guiltily at my mother.

"No, Emily, don't be stupid!" My mum snapped, I opened my mouth to reply to Foreman but she butted in, "You're not getting that test."

"It's not up to you!" I cried. My dad pushed himself up off the chair, his phone was ringing in his pocket. He picked it out and frowned.

"I have to take this," He murmured.

"No, you have to stay here and get your daughter to see sense." My mother snapped but he just shook his head and dashed for the door. I was guessing it was Carolin. I turned round to my mother.  
"I want the test." I whispered, "I want the biopsy."

"Emily, I swear to god..." She gritted her teeth together, her eyes wide with rage, her hands curled into fists, "If you get that test, I'm leaving. I'm not sitting here to watch you torture yourself. I'm away." I shrugged and turned to Foreman.

"I want the test."

--

I sat up straight on my bed, a table sitting in front of me where my arms were laid out, Foreman and Cameron standing beside me. I bit down on my lip, glancing over at Foreman as he walked behind me. I was wearing a hospital gown; it was untied so my back was bare.

"This won't take too long." Foreman reassured me. I nodded slowly, glancing out through the glass wall to see Dr. Chase standing there, his arms folded across his chest, a worried expression on his face.

"What's he doing standing out there?" I asked. Cameron laughed slightly.

"House doesn't trust him around you with needles." I shrugged, feeling Foreman cleaning the biopsy sight, ready to put the anaesthetic in.

"So, do you think I have this?" I asked meekly, "Coccidioidomycosis?"

"Well, it makes sense." Foreman murmured, he reached over to the table, picking up a syringe, "I'm going to numb the area now." I nodded, shutting my eyes for a second as I felt the needle slide into my skin, stinging sharply for a second before he pulled it out.

I never really had a problem with needles, but a strange sensation spread down the side of my back, pins and needles only cold, and quickly disappearing, losing any feeling in the area. Foreman leant forward and pressed his hand against the side of my back.

"Is it numb?" He asked. I shrugged and bit down on my lip.

"I think so." He frowned and I saw movement.

"You feel that?" He asked. I shook my head, I had felt nothing. Foreman smiled to himself and nodded, glancing up at Cameron to show that he was ready for the test to begin.

"You need to keep your arms outstretched on the table," He instructed, there was a tray of instruments standing beside him and he picked one of the needles up, quickly wiping the area of my back where it was going to go in so that it was sterile, "You're going to have to take a deep breath, and whatever you do, don't cough."

--

**House's P.O.V**

House limped slowly down the hall, noticing a concerned Chase standing at the window of Emily's room, his arms folded across his chest, one hand raised to his mouth and he was chewing nervously on his nails. House couldn't help but roll his eyes as he came to a stop beside him, looking into Emily's room through the blinds.

She was sitting up in her desk, the back of her hospital gown undone as Foreman wiped the area of skin on her back. Her lips were pursed together, her wavy red hair was scraped back off her face, and her eyes were shining with a trace of fear. The room was empty, except for her, Foreman and Cameron.

"Where's her parent's?" House murmured. Chase glanced up at him, surprised, not realising that he had joined him. He quickly allowed the hand to fall from his mouth and settle back down against his chest.

"They left." Chase sighed, his eyes studying Emily through the window, "Neither of them wanted the test... her dad, his wife called and her mother... well... she just..." Chase shrugged and tore his eyes away looking down at his feet, "Didn't want to stay."

"So much for looking out for their daughter." House mumbled under his breath. Chase nodded, his frown deepening.

"Yeah, I know." They both fell silent as they watched Foreman raise the needle, it's tip glinting in the light as he lowered it, pressed a hand against her back. His mouth moved but neither Chase nor House could hear what he was saying, but Emily inhaled deeply, squeezing her eyes together tight. House shook his head slowly.

"This isn't right." He growled, and slowly walked towards the door. Chase looked up at him, obviously confused.

"Where are you going?" He asked. House opened the door and didn't look back at him.

"Taking care of my patient." He told him as the door swung shut behind him. Once Foreman heard him walk in he stopped, the needle point pressing against Emily's skin. Her eyes snapped open and she saw him, a tiny smile rising to her lips before it shakily disappeared.

"What is it?" Foreman asked bluntly. House scowled and walked over to Emily's bed side roughly pulling up a chair. He sat down quickly, his cane in front of him, both hands resting on top of it.

"The anaesthetic only works on the outside of the skin." House sighed, his eyes meeting Emily's ignoring both Cameron and Foreman, "Which means that it won't hurt when we put the needle in. But..." He lowered his gaze, "When the needle reaches your lung, well, your lung hasn't been numbed. You ever had a needle stuck in your lung before?" Emily slowly shook her head and let out a nervous laugh.

"No." She whispered. House's frown deepened.

"It hurts." He said plainly. He let out a long sigh as both Cameron and Foreman stared at him expectantly, wondering what the point of this was. He pursed his lips together and very reluctantly raised one of his hands, sliding it across the table in front of Emily and gripped her hand, his fingers entwining with hers. The skin on her hands was surprisingly cold and soft. Emily looked at him, completely shocked, "You're parents shouldn't have left you." His voice was barely audible, but Emily had managed to hear it and a smile fluttered back onto her lips.

"Thank you." She murmured. House was all too aware of Cameron and Foreman staring at him, their mouths hanging open slightly. He rolled his eyes.

"It's purely medicinal." He grumbled, avoiding their gaze and concentrating on Emily, "It's pain management, lowers stress levels." Emily just nodded and her grin broadened, he felt her grip tighten on his hand and he cleared his throat nervously.

"Take a deep breath." He instructed, Foreman took it as his cue to go and as Emily inhaled he slid the needle into the skin on her back. A few moments later Emily's face screwed up in pain, gritting her teeth together she clamped her hand even tighter around House's, letting out a slight whimper. House didn't mind, he just squeezed her hand in response and looked at Foreman as he tried to retrieve the biopsy sample as quickly as possible, not wanting to hurt her any longer than necessary.

Eventually Foreman slid the needle out of her back and Emily slowly exhaled, her grip relaxing as her expression softened. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled sweetly over at House. He forgot himself for a split second and allowed himself to smile back, before realising Cameron was staring down at the table where both his and Emily's hands were clutched together.

House scowled, but cleared his throat, looking away from Emily and down at the ground, very reluctantly removing his hand from her grip.


	13. Poison

**Overdramatic as always. More inaccuracies. But who cares?**

--

_He's a wounded animal  
He lives in a matchbox  
He's a wounded animal  
And he's been coming around here_

_He's a dying breed _

-

It was late, my eyes were shut but I wasn't sleeping, the blinds in my room weren't pulled either, as I enjoyed seeing the sun spill onto the floor when morning came around. It had been two days since my lung needle biopsy and I hadn't heard a word, or seen any doctors, except for Chase, who came in to check the small puncture wound in my back for infection.

I heard the door open but I didn't move, knowing exactly who it would be. My parents had also disappeared, my mother refusing to talk to me and my father attempting to reassure his wife that he wasn't having an affair, coming up with insane excuses as to why he was never at home. The whole time I was left in the hospital bed, wondering if at last I had a diagnosis.

There was a scraping sound as the person pulled over a chair to sit down next to my bed, and he sighed, sitting down, the chair creaking under his weight as he did so. My eyes fluttered open and I looked over, to see a very depressed looking House sitting there, his eyes directed to the floor. He looked worse than I did, bags under his eyes, his hair unkempt, and his jaw was unshaven. I knew then that he hadn't been home or slept in a few days.

"It's okay." I whispered. His eyes shot up and met mine, looking surprised to see me awake. I flashed him a supportive smile which he didn't return. I knew the moment he stepped in the door what the test results were, and I knew exactly what he was feeling, "You get used to it."

"Spoken like a true pro." House mumbled. He took a deep breath and faced me, "Tests results were negative, no antibodies, no abnormalities at all." I tried again to smile at him.

"It was worth a shot." I murmured, I could see him clenching his jaw and his grip on his cane tightened, his knuckles turning white.

"I thought I was right I- I thought I had it." He was speaking to himself now more than me. I nodded slowly, "It was a good diagnosis."

"It was." I sighed, "Best I've heard so far. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"You don't understand." House groaned, he rubbed his left temple with his hand, shutting his eyes and trying to get a grip on himself, "I need to get this. I need to figure this out! I need to know, so I can stop caring about whether you're happy or not." I pulled the covers back off my bed, swinging my legs over the edge.

"I am happy." I told him, I flashed him a weak smile.

"You're an awful liar." House snapped, glaring up at me, "How can you possibly be happy, you have a dead beat dad, a mom who's too high most of the time to even care that you're coughing up pints of blood. You're not happy, you're just hiding how miserable you really are." I scowled at him, and looked down at my lap, taking a deep breath.

"I'm not the one who's miserable." I pointed out, House didn't look at me, he concentrated on the top of his cane.

"Why do you live with your mom?" House murmured. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"We're playing this game again?" I sighed. He continued to frown, I quickly guessed he wasn't in the mood to joke. I shrugged, "She needs me, if I wasn't there she'd be dead, she doesn't clean up, pay the rent, if I wasn't there she probably wouldn't even eat."

"She's not your responsibility." House growled. I shook my head.

"You're right, she's not, she's my mother." I told him. I couldn't understand why he was so obsessed over my living arrangements.

"She's leaching off you!" House cried.

"She's a person." I told him, "People are just people. They have their good points, and their flaws, some are just more flawed than others."

"She's a junkie." House mumbled under his breath.

"So are you." I snapped back. House raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised at my reply. Then a slight smile rose to his lips, something I wasn't expecting to see.

"Good comeback." He laughed. I couldn't help but smile a little myself, but it disappeared quickly, and I swung my legs, my bare feet kicking the side of my bed.

"So what now?" I whispered. I had the feeling that he had run out of ideas, if he hadn't he wouldn't be sitting there in front of me, despair etched into the lines of his face, he'd be off talking to his team, suggesting new, brilliant theories to why my lungs were filled with blood.

"I honestly don't know." He admitted. I bit down on my lower lip, spreading my hand out on the sheets of the bed, examining the spaces in between my fingers instead of looking at him.

"You know my mom and dad are going to want me out of the hospital," I murmured, "They hate this place, they can't stand hospitals."

"But it's up to you." House pointed out. I grinned, still not looking up, a dreamy far away look in my eyes.

"I love hospitals." I sighed. House raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I couldn't have guessed," He muttered sarcastically, "You're in them enough."

"I'm not going to be here for much longer," My voice was surprisingly morose, if anyone had overheard me they'd assume I was dying, but I was not, I was merely leaving a building.

"We need to find out what's wrong with you." House insisted, finally I looked up at him, an odd sincerity behind his eyes. I knew he needed to know not because he wanted to help me, but because of himself.

"I'm not dying." I sighed, inhaling sharply and flashing him a false smile which he'd never believe, "I'll survive."

"You're not healthy." House pointed out. We sat in silence for a few seconds, his words lingering in the air, before he pushed himself up out of the chair and began to walk towards the door, my eyes trailing after him. It felt as if something was coming to an end, something which I couldn't quite put my finger on.

--

The next morning my mother had returned. I was lying on my hospital bed, I was wearing jeans and a baggy black t-shirt, my shoes off and my IV still connected to my arm. I presumed that I wasn't getting any more tests in the near future, the prospect was surprisingly depressing.

My mother walked into the room, a bright shiny smile on her face as she saw me sitting up, no longer looking seriously ill, almost looking like a normal teenager, just with a needle in my arm. She rushed to my bed side, her clothes were neat, her hair was washed, and her eyes were bright. I knew she'd had a hit recently, no other way would she be so cheerful.

"Honey, god, I'm so glad you're okay!" She cried, quickly embracing me, her arms were skinny but she had a tight grip. She smelt like soap and cigarettes, and a small timid smile rose to my lips as she broke away.

"You're not mad?" I asked, I sounded like a five year old just after they broke a window, or smashed a vase. My mother shook her head, straightening up and smoothing down the covers on my hospital bed.

"No, sweetie, not at all." She reassured me, "Not one bit."

"Did you hear the test results?" I asked. My mother slowly shook her head, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, knowing what I had to say wasn't going to be good news. Good news to her, and good news to me were completely different things.

"They were testing for that cock thing, right?" She asked. A laugh erupted from my throat.

"Coccidioidomycosis." I corrected, then I slowly shook my head, "I don't have it." My voice was barely audible, like my throat was lined with straw, my disappointment obvious to anyone who looked. My mums smile widened at the news.

"But honey, that's a good thing!" She cried. She perched herself on the end of my bed, slipping her fine fingers through mine, lacing them up together. I knew exactly what was going to happen next, "It means we can get you out of here as soon as possible."

"I don't want to go." The words came flying out, and I immediately wanted to take them back, as all the new found happiness had disappeared from my mothers face.

"We're not staying here any longer than we have to." She hissed, "They've done their tests, they've all come back negative, there's nothing more they can do."

"I-I-I just..." I started, wanting to fight back, wanting to somehow cling to a shred of hope, but my face fell and I frowned, "I know." My mother grinned, affectionately running her hand through my hair, her eyes shining again.

"Good, you understand," My mother said happily. She pushed herself off the bed, walking happily over to the door, and opening it, "Your father will be pleased." I felt my muscles tighten and I lay back down on the bed, my eyes travelling back to the TV which hung in the left hand corner, but the words went through me. It felt like my insides had dropped out and there was nothing left inside of me.

--

House stared at his team, all sitting round the desk in the room beside his office, staring at him with a look of shock and confusion. He pursed his lips together, his eyes darting from Chase, to Foreman, to Cameron and back to Chase. He cleared his throat, their silence pushing down on him like a heavy weight, "_So?!_" He cried.

"You don't look good." Cameron whimpered. House glared at her; of course he didn't look good. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, eyes which were blood shot and red rimmed because he hadn't topped up on his Vicodin, his hair was array and his clothes were crinkled. This was the last thing on his mind.

"Just, give me some suggestions!" He yelled, hitting the side of the desk angrily with his cane. The three doctors stared back at him, mouths hanging ajar, completely shocked at the way he was behaving. House didn't care.

"Bronchiectasis?" Chase offered his voice cautious and low. House gritted his teeth together, taking a deep breath, trying to control the frustration building inside of him.

"Would have showed up on the CT." He hissed. His grip tightened on the cane and he tried to count to ten, to prevent himself from beating Chase to death.

"Her mother," Cameron whispered slowly, "Her mother could be the one doing it..." House turned round slowly, raising his eyebrows, surprised at Cameron's theory.

"You think her mother is poisoning her?" Foreman asked with cynicism in his voice. House motioned for him to be quiet.

"With what?" House asked. Cameron was slightly put off by the desperation in his voice but she straightened up and pursed her lips together.

"An Anti-coagulant." She murmured, "Something which would cause haemorrhaging, like Warfarin." House furrowed his brow, taking it all into consideration.

"I don't think she's poisoning her kid." Foreman said confidently with a shake of his head, "I mean Warfarin? Come on, it's a little farfetched!" House didn't seem to be able to hear him; he was still deep in thought. A few moments later he limped towards the door, a purposeful look in his eyes.

"Where are you going?" Chase asked.

"To talk to Sara Laine."


	14. Against Medical Advice

**Big, massive, huge medical inaccuracies.**

**But it's not supposed to be realistic. **

**This is the penultimate chapter to this series.**

--

_  
When they came out they said "you'll be ok anyway"  
And I smiled cause I'd known it all the while _

-

Sara Laine stood in front of the two doors which led into Lisa Cuddy's room. She was fresh faced, a smug smile plastered on her lips, her hands were folded in front of her. She looked composed, graceful, nothing like the way she had looked before she had left a few days ago.

"Ms Laine?" Lisa Cuddy stepped out of her office, a nervous look on her face. Her previous meetings with this woman had not gone well and she wasn't looking forward to another, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I want my daughter to be discharged." Sara announced confidently, no aggressive tone in her voice. Cuddy nodded slowly.

"Um, why, may I ask? If it's because of the doctor then we can-"

"It's not the doctor." Sara told her, the tension seemed to escape from Cuddy's face and she relaxed. "It's just, she's been here for weeks, and you haven't even figured out what's wrong with her. I'm not complaining, I just, I want to take my daughter home."

"You'd have to sign an AMA form," Cuddy explained, "She's still seriously ill."

"She's not dying." Sara said, her daughters words coming out of her mouth, "She's ill, but she's coped for it this long. There's no diagnosis, no treatment, there's no point staying."

"I'm sorry to ask this, but does Emily know this?" Cuddy asked cautiously. Sara nodded sharply.

"She understands, she agrees with me, she knows it is for the be-" Sara was cut off by a loud bang, the doors to the clinic swung open, and House stood there. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Sara, who stood, her brow furrowed in confusion, looking shocked. House didn't look too good, with every step he winced, no longer on medication to control his pain. His clothes ruffled, his hair a state, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, but with an unmistakable look of anger behind them. He gritted his teeth together and marched over to her.

"_House_, what is it?!" Cuddy snapped, she'd been glad to have Sara in front of her, being reasonable and calm, she did not need House to storm in and upset her. House ignored Cuddy, striding right over to her and stopping, his grip so tight on his cane his knuckles were white.

"I need to talk to you." He growled, his jaw was clenched and his eyes were wide with rage. Cuddy's eyes looked him up and down, contorting her face in confusion she rested a hand on his arm.

"House, are you alright? You look awful..." She murmured. House snapped his head round to look at her.

"**I'M FINE**!" He yelled, shrugging her hand off him, and turning back to Sara, "I have something I have to ask you."

"Emily's leaving." Sara told him, a proud look on her face, as if she'd accomplished something. Her statement just increased House's anger.

"Why are you even acting like you care about her?!" House cried, Cuddy's face dropped and so did Sara's, "You ditch her, just leave her, for days! You don't even sit with her when she's going through painful tests, you didn't even realise she was sick! Come on, why the hell are you here?!" Sara's face now mirrored House's, rage flaring up behind her eyes and she stepped closer to him.

"She's my daughter." Sara hissed, as if daughter trumps everything. House didn't back down, he continued to stare at her.

"Then why are you poisoning her?" The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he wasn't one to take something back. A deathly silence fell over the room, all anger had disappeared from Sara's face, now it was a mixture of hurt and betrayal, Cuddy's mouth was hanging open, feeling that she should say something, but nothing was coming to mind. House took this chance of calm to snatch Sara's bag from where it rested on her shoulder, then the room sprang into life again.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Cuddy yelled as House opened the handbag, walking over to the receptionists desk.

"Give me that back, that's mine!" Sara screamed, trying to tear it out of House's hands, House shoved her roughly away and turned the bag upside down, spilling it's contents onto the surface of the counter, "That's private property, that's illegal!"

"So is loading your daughter up on Warfarin!" House snapped back. He sifted through the clutter on the desk, finding everything he'd expect to find, Hypodermic needles; of course, she was a junkie. Lipstick, tampons, a small mirror, coins, a purse, a cell phone. There was one thing which was missing though, a bottle of Warfarin, "Where is it?!" He snapped, turning round to face the horrified Cuddy and Sara.

"Where is what?!" Sara asked, not following what was happening.

"The Warfarin!" House wanted to tear this woman to shreds, find at least one pill; one little shred of guilt to piece this whole absurd puzzle together.

"I don't even know what that is!" Sara told him sincerely. Cuddy placed her hands on her hips, glaring at House, not believing what had just happened. House shook his head, convinced Sara was lying.

"No, Warfarin is an anti-coagulant," House explained quickly, turning back round and sifting through the junk again, but not finding anything knew, "It can cause haemorrhaging, it explains her haemoptysis..." His voice was trailing off, realising he'd just made an extremely big mistake.

"I'm so sorry about this." Cuddy muttered to Sara, her frowned but nodded slowly, "I'll get those forms for you, so you'll be able to take Emily home in the next few days."

"Thank you." Sara said bitterly, stepping forward, pushing past House and pouring her stuff back into her handbag. She swung it over her shoulder, glaring at House one last time before strutting towards the exit, "I'll be with my daughter." She spat.

House heard Cuddy walk over to him, her heels clicking against the smooth floor and he leant against the desk, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "Maybe you should go home," Cuddy whispered. House straightened up and shook his head.

"Don't." He spat, he hated pity, he couldn't stand it, it made his skin crawl. He'd made a large mistake, and knew he was going to pay for it, so he limped back over to the exit, his head hanging, disappointment building up like a bomb in his chest

--

"That doctor, he is just-" My mother had opened the door, looking extremely flustered and annoyed, a strangely tight grip on the strap of her handbag. I sat upright, bringing my knees up to my chest and resting my chin on them.

"What's happened now?" I asked timidly.

"He's a fucking psycho!" My mum cried, throwing her bag down on a near by seat, running her hand through her hair and taking a deep breath, "He accused me of poisoning you!" She snapped. I raised my eyebrows, genuinely surprised, this was a new one.

"Seriously?" I shrugged absentmindedly, "I mean, he said he was running out of ideas..."

"Emily, we are getting you out of this hospital as soon as possible!" My mum cried. She tried to calm down, walking over to my bedside she sat on the edge, her fingers picking at any loose threads in the blankets, "Dr. House, he's just... you know I don't like him."

"I know, mom, I'm sorry." I bit down on my lower lip, "He's just doing his job."

"He stole my handbag!" She screamed.

"He's a little... unorthodox..." I murmured. My mother narrowed her eyes at me and I suddenly shrunk away from her.

"Don't make excuses for him!" She snarled. I slowly nodded, not wanting to annoy her any further, whatever House had done had gotten to her.

"What did he say?" I asked sheepishly, I wanted to know his next theory, but from the look on my mothers face I knew she wasn't in the mood to talk about it. She sat down on the bed, her hands balled into fists, her jaw clenched.

"He said I was slipping you _Warfarin_." She spat, "I mean, I don't even know what Warfarin is!"  
"It's an anti-coagulant." I sighed, previous doctors had mentioned it, but on finding out I didn't have a medical condition involving clotting, had discarded the idea. Only House would have the guts to take it one step further and presume my mother was feeding me it. He was wrong, of course, my mother never had the time to get Warfarin, never mind find out what it is, and figure out where to get it. My mother was a smart woman, but she was also ridiculously lazy.

"I'm going to sign the discharge papers tonight" My mother muttered to herself, I opened my mouth in protest but she noticed, "Fine. You're going to sign the discharge papers tonight. We'll leave in the next few days."

"Can't we see if they can come up with something else?" I asked meekly, my mother's eyes widened and I knew instantly I'd said the wrong thing and shrank away from her. I wanted to finally find out what was wrong with me, and I knew my best bet was House, but my mother didn't see it this way. My mom's features softened a little and she reached out and affectionately cupping my cheek, running her thumb along my skin.

"Honey, I know you're sick but..." She pursed her lips together and I knew she was bargaining with herself. After a moments silence she sighed deeply in resignation, "One more day. One more day then we're going." I nodded sharply and a grin spread over my face, an expression of pure delight.

"Thanks!"

--

"You wanted to see me?" House's voice was gruff as he stuck his head round the door to Lisa Cuddy's office, his face was sour, and he looked just as bad and worn out as he had a few hours earlier. He wouldn't normally go down to face Cuddy when he was asked to, but in a situation like this he knew it was no use avoiding her.

"House..." Her voice was light and sympathetic, which did not bode well for him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and walking cautiously over to one of the sofas, where he slowly sat down and hunched over.

"This is about Sara Laine, right?" He murmured. Of course it was, there was nothing else that needed talking about. Cuddy rose from her seat behind her desk and strode over to where House was sitting, joining him on the sofa while straightening her pencil skirt.

"I think you might need a vacation." She joked. House didn't crack a smile; he stared at the top of his cane which was held in his two hands in front of him. Cuddy frowned and looked down at her lap, "We can't have anything like that happening again."

"Okay, fine," House sighed, "Promise I won't, scouts honour."

"House." Cuddy gritted her teeth together, wanting him to take it seriously, she didn't realise that he was taking the whole thing a lot more seriously than she was, "What's happened to you?"

"Nothing, I'm just a little cranky without my Vicodin." House told her, it was half true, he'd stopped taking them, probably because of Emily's comment about him being a junkie, but the real reason he was in such a state was because he knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and he wanted to avoid it at all possible costs, "So I'll just go get some more and I'll be as right as rain."

"This isn't about drugs." Cuddy sighed, seeing right through him, "It's about the patient."

"What about the patient?" House growled, Cuddy raised her eyebrows, "I mean, she's not dead, I must be doing something right."

"Why is this case getting to you so much?" She asked.

"Because it's impossible." Another half truth.

"I'm sorry but," House knew what was coming next and he shut his eyes for a split second, as if bracing himself for the blow, "I'm taking you off this case."

"What? Why?" He knew the answer, it was obvious, but he wasn't happy about it.

"To stop us being sued, I mean usually what you do seems a little strange, but it always makes sense in the end..." Cuddy looked down at the ground, "You're not thinking straight on this one."

"Fine." House said simply, pushing himself off the sofa, leaving Cuddy's office and heading back to his own, He wasn't going down without a fight.

--

It was early afternoon the day after House had been taken off the case, and he strutted in through the doors of the clinic, his eyes scanning the room. Sick people were sitting in the waiting area while the nurses rushed around, most of them knowing better than to step forward and talk to him. He hunched his shoulders, his appearance no better than the previous day, and made his way over to the pharmacy.

"What can I get for you today?" The man behind the counter asked, he was short, fat, balding and was wearing a lab coat. "Some Vicodin?" House narrowed his eyes.

"Chloramphenicol." He told him, pushing a prescription over the counter, "3 grams of oily chloramphenicol"

"What do you need that for?" The man asked curiously, obediently fetching the drug which had been requested, House shrugged absentmindedly, getting a little impatient, not in the mood for chatting.

"Thought I'd spice up my drugs regime up." House said with a smirk as he quickly snatched the syringe from the man. His face dropped as for a second he took him seriously, and House looked quite smug until he felt a hand land on his shoulder and he turned round to see Wilson standing there with a curious look on his face.

"Finally getting round to refilling your Vicodin?" He asked. House attempted to pocket the syringe so it was out of sight, but Wilson spotted it and furrowed his brow, not understanding what was going on.

"I need to visit a patient." House growled, pushing roughly past him. Wilson stood still for a moment, trying to figure out what was happening, before he started after House again.

"You don't have any patients!" Wilson shouted as he followed him through the clinic doors towards the elevators. House stopped and impatiently pressed the button, this was one time he wished he could use the stairs. Wilson was quickly at his side.

"Actually, I do." House lied, shooting him a sarcastic smile, "Someone with meningitis," He slipped his hand into his pocket and showed him the needle, "Unluckily they also have a severe allergic reaction to penicillin."

"You're lying." Wilson said bluntly, House shrugged and pocketed the needle again, stepping into the lift as it slid open and widened his eyes.

"You can never be too sure with me" He directed his eyes upwards and watched as the numbers lit up. Wilson was studying him carefully; knowing from how he was behaving something was going on. House kept his mouth shut and briskly stepped out at his floor, Wilson in hot pursuit.

"Stop following me!" House called over his shoulder but Wilson ignored him, jogging to catch up. House came to a stop half way down the corridor and glared at him, Wilson continuing to be oblivious to what was going on.

"You have two choices," House muttered under his breath, "Turn round and go back to your office, or turn round and go rat me out to Cuddy." Wilson furrowed his brow, getting more confused by the second.

"Why would I go to..." His voice trailed off as he watched House pull out the hypodermic needle, taking off the protective plastic covering, and stepped past him. Only then did Wilson realise they were standing outside Emily's room. House cracked the door open and frowned, turning to look at Wilson one last time.

"I know what's wrong with her." House said simply, before stepping in, leaving Wilson with his mouth hanging open.


	15. Medical Marvel

**Apologies.**

**I gave a warning a few chapters back, that this case was not going to be solved.**

**Because that would be the end of this story and there is going to be a sequel. I'm so sorry for this mix up, please don't hate me.**

**This is the last chapter of this series, I hope you enjoy it.**

--

_  
Falling over backwards for you  
Falling over everybody else  
I put myself in that position  
Everytime I have the chance_

-

I heard the door open, and for a moment I thought it was my mother. She had gone home late last night, not wanting to sleep in the hospital, and had promised to come back today to sort through the discharge papers as well as the AMA ones. However, it was not my mother, instead I glanced up to see House standing there, closing the door cautiously behind him. I raised my eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

"Did they put you back on my case?" I asked, Chase having informed last night that I was no longer House's patient. He seemed not to hear me, his eyes fixed on Wilson on the other side of the glass door, who, after what seemed like deliberating what was best to do, sped down the hallway towards the lifts. House reached down and locked the door.

"No." He said simply, looking up at me at last and limping in my direction. I was beginning to get nervous, my gaze stuck on the syringe of drugs in his hand, "But that's not going to stop me treating you."

"Why did you have to lock the door?" My voice was quiet, giving away my nerves. House shrugged as he came to a stop by my bedside, and sat on the edge.

"Like I said, I'm not your doctor anymore." He didn't look good, he looked as if he hadn't slept, or showered, for days.

"You don't look good..." I muttered, furrowing my brow in concern. I pulled back the covers a little and pushed myself closer to him, my eyes examining his face which looked worn and tired, "are you sick?"

"No." House groaned as if he'd heard it all before, "But thanks for pointing it out."

"What's with the needle?" I asked quickly, deciding not to step around the subject, he was holding it so casually, and glanced down as I mentioned it, looking as if he'd forgot it was there all along.

"Oh this?" I sighed; he raised it in the air and examined it under the light, "It's going to cure you."

"Of what?" I was doubtful, I couldn't help it, I'd wanted for so long to find out what was making me sick, but every time I thought he'd figured it out, he was wrong, and I was further back than where I started.

"Of Bubonic plague." House said simply. My eyes widened, plague? Since when did I have the plague?  
"If I caught the plague shouldn't I be dead by now..." I asked sceptically. House shrugged.

"You're a medical marvel." He said. I narrowed my eyes.

"Maybe you've got it wrong." I pointed out, House grinned slightly, still holding the needle as if it were a trophy.

"There's only one way to find out." I opened my mouth to retaliate, but I stopped as I heard a knock on my door, I looked over to see Cuddy standing there, her face flushed with anger, her lips pursed into a thin straight line. Wilson was standing next to her, his hands tucked in his pockets, looking extremely worried.

"House, don't be stupid!" Cuddy called, "Unlock this door now!"

"What's going on?" I asked. House rolled his eyes.

"I'm not your doctor, remember?" He muttered, he motioned to the drug, "technically this is illegal." My mouth formed an 'o' shape, and I looked over at the door again, Cuddy beginning to lose her temper.

"This is serious!" She yelled, "You can not give her that!" I knew she was referring to the medicine, and I glanced down at it fearfully.

"What is it, exactly?" I murmured.

"Chloramphenicol." House said simply, ignoring Cuddy who was beginning to thud her fists against the door, "It's for pneumonic plague, which you have, well, I presume you have. One injection and you're cured."

"Emily?" I heard another familiar voice and I glanced again over to the door, where my mother was now standing, my face drained of colour as I watched horror flood her face when she realised she was locked out, "What the hell is he doing in there?!" My mother screamed at Cuddy, who glared at her and continued her attempt to get House to listen.

"House, you know it's dangerous!" Cuddy screamed, "It's not safe!" I felt my stomach tie in a knot and I faced House once more, who had a slightly guilty expression on his face.

"What does she mean?" I whispered, the whole situation was overwhelming, and I felt like walking over to the door and letting Cuddy in, just so I could get some sort of straight answers.

"There are side effects..." House moaned, and I got the impression he hadn't been planning to tell me about this at all, "We're actually not supposed to use it anymore... because..." He pursed his lips together and looked down, "Its can cause aplastic anaemia"

"_What?!_" I cried, my mother had now taken her chance to bang on the door, her teeth gritted together in frustration.

"Get him away from her!" My mother was screaming, hitting the glass so hard I wouldn't have been surprised if she broke it. She leaned against it, taking in a deep breath, "I'm going to kill you." My mother growled, her glare focused on House, who could easily ignore her.

"Aplastic anaemia... that..." I was trying to remain calm, I was locked in a room with House, a man who obviously was not in his right mind, and was attempting to inject me with a potentially deadly drug, "That's not good!"

"It's extremely rare." He continued on, "and it's even less likely seeing as it'll be injected, the only real risk is if you take it orally. Plus it's only one injection."

"But it's aplastic anaemia!" I pointed out, everyone had now gathered round my door, including House's team, and they were all attempting to get the door open, "I could die."

"I might be right." House pointed out, "I might be right and you'll be cured." He glanced over his shoulder, for the first time acknowledging the commotion he was causing and slowly turned back round to face me, "It's up to you."

I glanced from House, to the syringe, to the group of people attempting to get into the room. I noticed Wilson had produced a bunch of keys and was trying desperately to unlock the door, my mother's eyes wide with rage. I swallowed nervously and looked back to House, who was still staring at me expectantly.

"Do you trust me?" He asked. I looked down at my lap, shutting my eyes for a second in an attempt to block everything out, it was no use, I raised my head and swiftly rolled the sleeve of my right arm, as I had been wearing a royal blue hoody in bed, and offered him the crook of my elbow.

"Yes." I told him honestly. He nodded and took my arm, I could hear my mother's voice rising as she realised what was happening, Wilson attempting to get her to stay silent, reassuring her he had found the key.

There was a sharp sting on my skin and I shut my eyes, biting down on my lower lip as the pain which stabbed into my arm reached its peak. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, wondering why everything had gone so silent. I looked round, the door was open, everyone standing in the doorway with their eyebrows raised, mouths open in horror, I glanced at House, the syringe in his hand was empty, and there was a small drop of crimson blood on my arm from where the drug had entered my system.

--

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Cuddy's voice was high and shrill, her eyes wide for emphasis, her hands balled into fists. House sat with an apathetic look on his face in front of her, bouncing his cane absentmindedly off her floor, "You stole medicine, a potentially deadly medicine, which you then administered to a patient who you were no longer supposed to be treating!"

"I cured her." House sighed, his mood had lightened significantly since the incident, "Last time I checked that's what you pay me to do."

"I pay you to cure _your_ patients!" Cuddy cried, "I took you off her case!"

"Can't stop me, I'm dedicated!" House said with a smug smile. Cuddy groaned outwardly.

"You may not have even cured her." Cuddy sighed, leaning against the edge of her desk, "You could have just made her worse."

"I'm willing to take that risk." Cuddy shut her eyes for a few seconds, knowing she was going to hear from Emily's parents pretty soon. They were currently with their daughter, probably scolding her for letting House stick a needle in her arm.

"Go home." Cuddy said simply with a defeated voice. House got up off his seat to protest, limping towards her desk.

"I can't, I have to keep an eye on her!" House pointed out, "She could have aplastic anaemia!" Cuddy narrowed her eyes, not finding the situation in the least bit funny, and in no mood to joke. She sighed and self consciously straightened her skirt.

"First of all, if you've given her aplastic anaemia she has a good few months to live, she's not going to drop dead the moment you turn your back," House opened his mouth again, probably to say something sarcastic or witty, but Cuddy cut him off, "I know you want to keep an eye on her, I know you want to see if you were right, I know you want to see if the medicine has worked... but you have another 48 hours before we find out, so please, go home and get some sleep. You need it."

"Fine." House murmured, turning round slowly, causing Cuddy to sigh with relief, "I'll be at home, getting drunk, if you need me."

--

House had lied. He had no intention of going home, no intention of just waiting till the next morning to see how Emily was doing, but he hadn't wanted to stay in Cuddy's office for hours, arguing why he should still be on the case.

He sat outside on a bench which was on the street facing the hospital, his coat wrapped round him, a cup of coffee in his hand, the steam rising from it into the cold air. He'd been sitting there for a good long while, only getting up when he needed the bathroom, or when he felt the need for a sandwich.

His eyes were trained on the doors opposite him, and they lit up as he saw the sight he'd been waiting for, a disgruntled Cuddy pushing through the front doors, a large scarf enveloping her neck as she trotted towards the car park, desperate to get out of the cold and get home as quick as possibly.

House smirked, drained his cup of coffee, set it down on the ground next to him and straightened up, making his way over to the hospital, just as Cuddy's car pulled out of the grounds.

He knew it was late, the early hours of the morning, but he knew that he couldn't go in until Cuddy had left. Emily's parents weren't that much of a problem; they had left about an hour after House. Now he had nothing standing in the way between him and his patient.

As he stepped into the warm entrance of the hospital, allowing his coat to loosen, nurses flashed him suspicious glances, wondering why he was here, he just ignored them and made his way over to the lifts, pressing the button and stepping in, eventually making it to Emily's level.

The whole floor seemed deserted, it was dark, and the only lights were coming from the nurse's station and a few rooms where patients were still awake, or doctors were working over time. No one was going to interrupt him, so he continued down the hall, stopping outside Emily's room and peering in.

For a moment his heart stopped, noticing the covers of her bed thrown back, and no one underneath them. He was convinced, in that split second, that she'd left already, that she'd ran away or her parents had smuggled her into their car. He relaxed though, as he spotted a small figure, slumped against the end of the bed, half lying on the floor, bathed in the soft glow of the television flickering in the corner.

He took a deep breath and opened the door, he noticed her eyes were shut, and her chest was rising and falling slowly but steadily, so he tread softly, being sure not to wake her. He came to a stop in front of her and knelt down, with much difficulty, wincing as pain shot through his leg, but he ignored it.

Her face was unnaturally pale in the light from the TV, and her lips were parted slightly, with some hair framing her face. Then he saw it, just at the corner of her mouth, a spatter of blood standing out drastically against her skin, the small amount of liquid was enough to send him spiralling out of his good mood. He scowled, quickly realising he'd been wrong, that he'd put her through everything for nothing, and slowly reached out, cupping her face slightly and wiping the blood away with his thumb.

"Hm?" Emily stirred, her forehead creasing as her eyes fluttered open, quickly connecting with House's, who froze, unsure of what to do. Automatically a smile spread across her face, a reaction which always occurred when House was around, and she raised her hand to where House's was resting, her fingertips touching it lightly, "Sorry, it didn't work." Her voice was foggy, and she wasn't fully awake, but she still was able to register what was going on.

"I can see that." House sighed, retracting his hand quickly, tensing at the feeling of her skin, "Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay," She sighed, rubbing her eyes groggily, "I mean, my backs sore, if I stay here any longer I won't be able to walk tomorrow." She grinned as House straightened up, and quickly she pulled herself off the floor, not looking to House for a helping hand, and flexed her back, wincing and placing her hand on it. "I was watching TV..." She sighed.

"Yeah..." House didn't know what to say to her, part of him felt guilty, as if he'd let her down, he'd been so sure in his diagnosis that he never considered disappointing her. And now he'd done it, again.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." Emily said, walking to the TV and turning it off before returning to House's side, "The discharge papers are all signed."

"You could wait longer..." House suggested, not happy at the fact she was leaving him, he hadn't fixed her yet, "I mean, you're not cured."

"I'll survive," Emily told him honestly, "No one's figured out what's wrong with me in five years, another little while won't hurt."

"So what? You're just going to leave, give up?" House growled, Emily shrugged.

"I don't want to." She stepped towards her bed, sitting down on the edge and staring up at him. Now that the television had been turned off the room was almost pitch black, but they could still see the outlines of each other against the cool light flooding in between the blinds, "Cuddy suggested that I come in for regular tests, as an outpatient, there's no rush."

"Who's your doctor?" House asked, trying not to sound offended that she'd organised something like this without consulting him. He didn't need light to see that Emily was grinning, causing her eyes to shine.

"You, of course!" She laughed; she pursed her lips together, and tilted her head to one side, "You're the best, right?"

"Your parents are okay with this?" House asked sceptically, surprisingly not in the mood to make snarky comments or jokes. Emily swiftly shook her head.

"It's not up to them, remember?" She reminded him, "It's up to me. And I want you." House nodded slowly and glanced down at his cane, which he began to bounce of the smooth floor. He eventually turned round, trying to keep his composure up, and took a deep breath.

"See you tomorrow morning then," he murmured as he stepped through the door, moving to close it behind him, "Get some sleep, you look tired."

--

Sara woke up with a smile on her face, rolling over in her bed to see a little sunlight pour through the blinds which covered the dirty window looking into her apartment. Today was the day she'd be taking her daughter home; she'd get rid of that psychotic doctor for a while, as well as never having to see Jeff again. She sprang out of her bed, and began to get ready for the day ahead.

She had a shower, she brushed her hair, she cleaned her teeth, she wore a fresh set of clothing, she put on mascara, lipstick, nail polish, and for once in her life she ignored the brown powder concealed in a bottom drawer in her kitchen. She didn't feel like she needed it today.

She took one last glance at herself in the mirror, and with a broad smile, stepped out the front door with a skip in her step.

She drove quickly to the hospital, as it was early there was very little traffic, and she arrived ten minutes prior to when she was expected. She grabbed her handbag and stepped out into the cool morning air, slamming the door shut behind her, locking it, and strutting into the building.

The hospital never seemed to sleep, there were nurses running around, a few solemn looking doctors with stethoscopes round their necks slowly pacing the corridors. Sara was the happiest looking one out of them all, and walked purposefully up to the lifts and waited.

The doors slid open and she stepped inside, glancing at the few people already standing within, checking quickly to see if any of them were House, and let out a sigh of relief when she realised they weren't, and stood with her head raised high until the elevator came to a stop on her floor.

She practically ran down the corridor to Emily's room, seeing that she was awake, dressed and ready to go, her smile broadened and she stepped into the room.

"Hey!" She cried, causing Emily's head to spin round to face her. She'd been sitting cross legged on the bed, watching TV, but a sad smile rose to her lips at the sight of her mother.

"Hey mum." She murmured, obviously attempting in vain to look happy. Sara decided to let it slide, she'd cheer up once she got home.

"Are you ready to leave?" She asked. Emily slowly shook her head apologetically, "Why not?"

"I need to get all my stuff packed." She explained, Sara slowly nodded her head, and rushed over to the nearest drawer. Emily quickly rose off the bed to stop her, "Mom, what's the rush?" She hissed. Sara straightened up and shrugged.

"Just want to get you home as quickly as possible!" She told her. Emily continued to smile sadly at her and shrugged.

"Look mum, I want to get home, I do," She sighed, "But I can't go until I've talked to Dr. House, you know that." Sara slowly nodded and pursed her lips together so tightly they disappeared into a thin line.

"Okay, that's okay," She murmured, turning round slowly and adjusting the strap of her handbag which hung over her arm, "I'll just go wait downstairs, okay, I'll be in the cafeteria, drinking coffee, when you're ready to go." Emily nodded slowly and watched as Sara left the room, obviously trying her best not to get angry.

--

House woke up with a start the next morning, his brow furrowed as he threw the blankets off him and he awkwardly swung his legs over the edge, as he tried to remember why he felt like crap, why he had this sick feeling pumping through his veins. He quickly remembered Emily, and the fact that she'd be walking out of his life in just a few hours, and it didn't make him feel any better.

He didn't know why he was so upset about this patient leaving, he couldn't figure out whether it was because he hadn't fixed her yet, or whether it was something more than that. Even if he tried his best, he honestly wouldn't be able to say.

He slowly made his way into the kitchen, glanced round his almost empty fridge for a few seconds, and shut it again. He wasn't hungry. And he wasn't the type of person who'd eat just because they knew they should. His head was sore, and the pain was pounding mercilessly against his temples. He'd attempted to forget about Emily last night, by consuming way too much alcohol, and only now was he realising it wasn't the smartest idea in the world.

He got dressed, barely paying attention to what he was putting on and eventually left his house, climbing onto the back of his bike he placed his helmet over his head and started up the engine, his cane neatly tucked away, and sped down the road, heading towards the hospital.

When he arrived the first thing he noticed was Sara Laine's car, parked out the front, ready to take Emily home. This wasn't good, he needed to talk to her, and if her mother was there that was going to make the task more than difficult. Still, he parked his bike, hopped off it and removed his helmet, grabbing his cane he limped through the front doors of the hospital.

The moment he stepped over the threshold he found himself ducking to one side in an attempt to hide. His gaze had fallen on the lifts, which Sara Laine had just walked out of, a thoroughly pissed off look on her face as she made her way towards the cafeteria. House breathed a sigh of relief, realising that Emily was still here and, in this moment of time, was without her mother. He walked as briskly as he could towards the elevators, stepped quickly into one of them and began to head towards Emily's room.

He stepped off at her floor and limped along the corridor, coming to stop beside her room. He took a deep breath as he looked in, finding himself staring at Emily, as she walked around, shoving her belongings into a backpack lying open on her bed, getting ready to leave. She spun round, glancing downwards at the ground to check to see if she dropped something, and when she looked up her eyes met his, and a genuine smile rose to her lips, making House want to turn and run in the other direction.

--

I was quite tired, and having House wake me up late last night hadn't helped matters much, but I was coping. I'd woken a lot more early than usual, a strange feeling developing in my stomach, a mixture between guilt and nervousness, which was only amplified when I found myself staring through the glass wall at House's face.

He looked tired, as usual, and cautiously limped towards the door, opening it and stepping inside. I waved in an attempt to be cheerful, and turned back round, busying myself with preparing to leave.  
"Morning." I sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I stuffed a jacket into the bag, which was almost full. He nodded instead of saying anything, and continued to watch as I rushed about the room, "You alright?"

"Yeah." He said, a bit too quickly, his voice giving away that it was a lie. I stopped what I was doing and turned away from bag to face him, not helping but to allow a look of sympathy to cross my face.  
"Don't tell me you're going to miss me." I teased, knowing that the last thing he wanted now was for either of us to be serious. He shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know," He sighed, "Maybe I'm glad to get rid of you." I smirked at him.

"You're not getting rid of me," I pointed out, "I still have to come in for those check ups."

"Damn, I forgot about those." He murmured, trying to sound disappointed, but it was obvious the news made him a little happier.

"So every week you get to stick a needle in my arm," I told him as I decided to continue to pack, "The way I see it, you've got nothing to complain about." He remained silent for a few minutes, watching me closely, I almost felt as if he was making sure I wasn't stealing stuff.

"Wheres mommy?" He asked eventually. I shrugged.

"Cafeteria, I think. Getting her caffeine fix. Why?"

"Just making sure she hasn't abandoned you." He sighed, "People have a tendency to do that." I narrowed my eyes at him and shot him a glare, but didn't reply and continued to pack. Eventually I was done and, with much difficulty, I closed the bag and swung it over my shoulder. I turned round with a smile on my face, but it evaporated as I noticed House, who was standing in front of me, looking guilty.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled. I raised my eyebrows, he sounded sincere, and a look of sympathy swept across my features. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel bad, and I shook my head quickly and stepped closer to him.

"You don't have to be," I told him quickly, staring up at him, wide eyed, "It's not your fault I'm sick, and it's not your fault that no one can figure out what's wrong, you shouldn't be sorry, I-"

My voice failed me as House raised his hand and settled it against my cheek, my breath catching in my throat as I realised what was happening, but my body wouldn't move. He leant down, and slowly pressed his lips against mine, catching me completely off guard. My eyes widened and I raised my hands to his chest, moving to push him away, but my knees went weak and eventually my eyes closed and I gave in.

He tasted like drugs, and some sort of alcohol, the type which would scorch your throat but leave a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. His hand slid down from my face to my neck, and he gently pulled me closer, so even if I wanted to, I couldn't pull away. The whole thing was slow, deep and strangely intense, so when finally our lips parted, I felt as if I were shaking, despite the fact I was standing completely still.

"Emily..." He whispered, still standing close enough so I could feel his breath on my lips, and I had a strange feeling another apology was on it's way. But before he could get another word out, the noise of someone clearing their throat broke the silence and he quickly retracted his hand, as if my skin had burnt him.

"Um, Emily," I spun round to see Dr. Cameron, standing with a completely shocked look on her face, her wide eyes darting from me to House and back again, "You're mom is still waiting downstairs."

I nodded sharply and spun round, realising that in the midst of everything I'd dropped my bag. I bent down and picked it up, flashing House a timid smile before ducking my head and walking out of the room, "Bye," I mumbled under my breath, glancing over my shoulder one last time, House still not having moved an inch, his eyes locked on mine, not needing to say another word.


End file.
